


Physics 101

by shinkonokokoro



Category: The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony teaches Physics 101. But only because he has to. Steve needs it for a gen ed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I don't know much about MIT, the layout of, or any of the buildings. Therefore, I kind of took some pretty huge liberties with it.
> 
> Edit: Now with ART linked at the bottom.

 “So here's the skinny,” something sort of skinny himself says, strutting across the stage in a suit. “The only reason you're taking this class is to fulfil a gen ed. The only reason I'm _teaching_ this class is so the university doesn't yank my funding. Welcome to physics 101.” He gave them a sharp grin.

“Get off the stage, kid!” someone shouted.

“Automatic “F” for you,” the kid said, flowing into his next thought seamlessly. “Another comment like that, and I'll wreck your credit score for life. Don't disrespect me. I'm smarter than all of you. Rule number two: fucking me won't get you an “A.” We'll both enjoy it a lot—that's my guarantee here and now, but if you want an “A” you'll have to work for it.”

“Are you even legal?” someone else shouted.

“Idiot,” he stabbed the air in the direction of the voice. “Refer to rule number one. Rule number three, I don't do office hours. Email me.” He turned and wrote on the white board behind him:  [ tonystark@gmail.com ](mailto:tonystark@gmail.com) .

“Mr. Stark!”

“Ugh! Disgusting! Rule number four: Tony. Always Tony. I am  _not_ 'Mr. Stark.'” He glared around the lecture hall. “Any questions?”

“Where's the  _real_ professor?”

“Fail,” Tony said without bothering to look at who spoke. “No? Fine. Get the hell out of here. First days are stupid. I have more important work to be doing.” And strode off the stage.

Steve blinked, thinking this was the strangest class he'd been to. But he couldn't help grinning. Hard work was something he was used to. He was  _going_ to get an “A” in Physics this semester, so help him.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Steve didn't like knowing what others thought of professors beforehand, but when he mentioned Stark at dinner that night, Clint groaned.

“Sucks man. Guy's a doucher.”

Steve frowned.

“Oh come on. Don't give me that I'm-judging-you face.”

“I'm no—”

“You disapprove. He's a kid genius and treats everyone else like idiots. Mucho brains plus disdain equals douche.”

“Clint! Stop saying that word!”

His friend blinked and then grinned a grin that meant Steve should either leave or find new friends. “Douche? Ooh... I bet you don't like pussy either!”

“I'm leaving,” he said, wishing to high heaven he didn't blush so easily. He dropped his tray off and went upstairs. Two hours later and he knew all sorts of things about Tony Stark that he wish he didn't. He was, certifiably, a genius though and knew his stuff, what with degrees in mechanical and computer engineering, robotics, and biomechanics, and physics for fun.

He also had an email from Stark with a syllabus attached. As well as the message:  _Memorize your syllabus and don't ask me questions. -S_

Steve sighed and downloaded the thing, spending the next half hour reading it. It really wasn't very user-friendly, with asterisks and all of it's foot-notes.

He asked one of the other kids in class if he'd been confused by the syllabus and he said 'no,' so maybe Steve's non-math brain was just having issues. He'd have to ask Stark...

Waiting until the lecture hall was mostly empty, he stepped up to the table and cleared his throat. “Professor Stark?”

And was promptly laughed at.

He frowned and when Stark finally looked up at him, he burst into laughter again. Finally he said, “Jesus... Where'd you grow up?! Farm land of Iowa?”

“No,” Steve replied stiffly. “I—”

“Never mind. Don't care. Listen. It's 'Tony.' Professor Stark sounds ridiculous. It's worse than 'Mr. Stark.' So what is it, homegrown?”

“Oh, I grew up in New York, actually,” he said coldly. “And I wanted to ask you about the syllabus. Are the—”

“Geeze! I said no questions!”

“Well  _sorry_ ! I don't get math so well, and you wrote the thing like it was computer code or something!”

Tony's lips twitched into an amused smile. “You're not a science major are you.”

“No, I'm an art major.”

“Of course you are, homegrown. So why are you taking this class?”

“My name's Steve, you know., Would you stop calling me that? And I need it. Gen ed.”

Tony grinned, reminding him vaguely of Clint's “I'm-going-to-keep-doing-this-because-it-annoys-you” smile. “Right.”

Steve sighed. “Could you...help me out?”

“And what do I get out of it?” He leaned back against the table, patient and smug like he knew the secrets of the universe. Heck, maybe he did. None of the research the internet said he was working on made much sense.

“I don't know! The satisfaction of helping a person?!” He straightened and glared when Tony laughed at him again. He really was as bad as Clint said.

“Oh boy. You really are a relic. What, you play football in high school? Army kid?”

“Stop it.” He'd not be able to, staying home to take care of his mom because his dad had jetted off years ago. “Are you going to help or not?”

“No, sir, Captain, Sir! Go ask a classmate. I have work to do,” he said, waving Steve off before turning to finish packing up his things, muttering to himself.

Steve sighed and left to a stream of, “shit universities and their shitty technology...”

By the time he got back that evening however, he had a dumbed down version of the syllabus in his inbox.

_Here ya go, Captain Homegrown. Last freebie ;)_

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Two weeks in and Steve found the classroom empty of Stark and most of the students muttering in their seats about the  _Sit your asses down_ message blinking on the screen.

The bell rang and a student stood near the front. “This is gay. I'm leaving.”

_Pretty sure 'this' doesn't have a gender. Now get out, dick-wad. You fail._

Everybody murmured their shock, the kid standing gaping at the screen.

“What the hell!”

_You read me. Get out. You fail._ _Bell's rung. Shut up._

“Big brother is watching,” Steve murmured.

_Heard that, Homegrown_ .

“Dude! Where the fuck are you?” Another kid asked as Steve ducked his head and flushed.

_Shut up. I'm sick, so running class from home. Get your pens out. We're taking notes._

Steve shook his head and opened his notebook, wondering how the heck Stark had managed this.

When class ended, one message remained blinking.

_Stick around, Homegrown_ .

Steve packed his things slowly, waiting for everyone else to leave. “Um. Tony?”

_Heya Captain._

“It's 'Steve,'” he retorted

_Right. Listen. I'm calling in my favour. Could you bring me cold meds?_

“Huh?”

_Cold meds. You do know cold meds, right. You're not one of those weird netty pot users?_

“You know, for a person asking a favour, you could be more polite... I don't know where you live.” He felt awkward talking to an empty room.

_You live on Eighth. I'm on the north east corner of Fifth and Jameson, Red building. And the Walgreens is on Fourth and Cole. It's on your way._

“How do you know where I live?”

_Computer genius. Also your student info is on my class roster._

“Convenient,” Steve grumbled.

_Is that a yes? Please? I'll reimburse you._

“Fine! Fine, you win. I'll be there shortly.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Steve got the kind of cold meds he liked because he didn't know if Tony had any preferences. Some Advil too. The kind with the nice coating. He found Tony's place pretty easily too. Small red building with a black door and structurally unsound balcony on the second floor. Typical charming half-dilapidated university house

_Come in_ , a voice sounded as he approached the door.

Steve jumped, heard the lock click and let himself in. “Hello?”

“Master Rogers,” a refined British voice said. “Master Stark is awaiting you in his bedroom.”

He whirled, seeing no source of the voice. “I'm sorry?”

“The stairs are straight back and to the left. Master Stark's bedroom is the second door on the right.”

“Uh... Thanks?”

“My pleasure, Master Rogers.”

Steve frowned and followed the voice's directions. “Um. Tony?” he called, a little nervous about the amount of people reportedly in the man's bed.

“Here...” a voice croaked, dispelling any fears.

Steve blinked at the kid in the bed, used tissues scattered on the blankets tucked up under his chin. “Uh. Hi.”

Tony scowled, nose red, and reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. He had a laptop on the table and another next to where his hips probably were. “Hi.”

“Man. You look.”

“Great, I know,” Tony rasped.

“I'm surprised you held class.” Steve inched closer.

“Got my drugs?” Tony fought so he was almost upright, glaring but accepting Steve's help.

“Yeah.” He handed the bag to Tony. “Um. Who was talking earlier?”

“Hm?” He wrestled with the bottle.

“Earlier. When I came in?” Finally taking the bottle back, Steve opened it and dropped the pills in his hand.

“Oh. You mean my butler.” Tony grinned and dry-swallowed the pills easily. “Wooster.”

Steve frowned. “Where...”

“Wooster,” Tony croaked.

“Yes, Master Stark.”

“You creeped out Steve. Say hello.”

“Good afternoon, Master Rogers. I am Wooster, Master Stark's artificially intelligent butler. A pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

“Electronic house,” Tony explained, falling back against the headboard. “It'll be huge. Gonna build my own home. Incorporate it.”

“Wow...” Steve said.

“Don't be so impressed, homegrown.” Tony's eyes fell shut.

“Um.” Steve looked around. “Uh, need anything else?” Tony was all alone. Sick. Didn't have any physical company.

Cracking an eye, Tony looked him over. “You're sweet. Glass of water?”

“Do you want a sandwich?”

“Sure, Cap.”

Steve shook his head and left the room to stop himself from asking Tony how old he was. Sighing into the open fridge, he shook his head. It was filled mostly with Redbull, some expensive type of cheese Steve was fairly certain was foreign, orange juice, and strawberries. The freezer held...ice. And vodka. Oh wait. There was a TV dinner.

“Um. Wooster?”

“Yes, Master Rogers.”

“I'm...going to the supermarket. Er, Fresh Market. Tony doesn't have any groceries. Is it okay if I come back in about twenty minutes?”

“Master Stark will reimburse you.”

“Oh. It's not—”

“Master Stark will reimburse you.”

Steve sighed and walked down to the store to get bread, meat, mayo, milk, pickles, and eggs. The door clicked open for him when he returned, and he set about making two sandwiches in Tony's small kitchen. Tiptoeing up to Tony's room, he called the man's name softly.

Tony's head was tipped back on the pillows, making snuffling snorey noises.

Steve huffed. Just like every other sick kid he'd babysat. “Hey, Tony. Wake up.”

Tony flinched and blinked at him. “Oh hey, homegrown. A sandwich. I didn't know I had bread.”

“You didn't. I bought some for you.”

“Aw...” Tony grumbled, dragging hands over his face. “Thanks, Cap. You should... I dunno. Be Captain over all th'sick people or something. The university. Hell, all uh America. Captain! America!”

Steve snorted. “Um. Right. You feverish?”

“I'm always hot,” Tony mumbled, making grabby hands at the sandwich. “Oh my God. This is a good sandwich. Can I  _hire_ you to make me sandwiches?”

“Tony, I'm one of your students. I'm pretty sure this is inappropriate.” But Steve pulled an arm chair closer so he could put his plate on the bedside table “Isn't there someone to take care of you? Did you take more cold medicine?”

“It's only inappropriate if we're naked, and I've got you over for sex. And like I said, it won't get you any better grades anyway, so it doesn't matter!”

“Tony...” He fought against a blush, losing brilliantly. “Did you take more cold meds?”

“I did,” he said around a mouthful of mashed sandwich.

Steve valiantly looked away. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen. Twenty next month. I'm legal, Captain America.  _Damn_ do you make a good sandwich.”

“It's not that har—nineteen? Who takes care of you?”

“Me. Duh. I don't need a keeper.” Tony downed his water and held out his glass. “Not from the bathroom. Brita. In the fridge. Tastes better.”

Sighing, Steve fetched him a glass of water.

“You're being too nice to me. What do you want,” Tony asked, squinting as he retook his seat.

“Wha? I don't want anything. Where are your parents?”

“New York. London? Paris maybe. New Jersey? Who knows.” He shrugged. “Don't stare at me! I don't want your pity, Captain America!”

For someone who called his mom every weekend, the whole concept of not even knowing if one's parents were in the country was a bit appalling. “It's not—sorry.”

“How old are you, homegrown?” Tony stuffed the last bit of sandwich into his mouth.

“Uh... I'm twenty-five. I had to work to affo—you know what, you don't need my life story. I don't even know why I'm still here. I've got work to do. I hope you feel better by Wednesday.”

“Uh. Sure. Um. I'll pay you. Back,” Tony mumbled, eyes drooping. “See ya. Cap.”

“Bye, Tony.” He stood and carried the plates back to the kitchen, washing them and putting them away.

“You are most kind, Master Rogers,” Wooster said, making him jump. “I will remind Master Stark of the debt he owes you.”

“Sure. Ah, no problem? Remind him to do the shopping and eat too, while you're at it?”

“Of course, Sir. Might I program your mobile number in so you may be contacted in the future?”

Tony's house. Asking for his number. What was his life. “Well, I don't actually have a cell phone, but my apartment number 617-291-7650.” Why. This was crazy. He didn't want to get messed up with Tony Stark, billionaire, boy-genius, smart-ass,  _teacher_ .

“Excellent, Master Rogers. Thank you very much for your presence. I hope to see you back again.”

“Right.” He looked around and waved in the direction of what looked to be a camera. “Bye.”

“That is unfortunately a decoy, but I read your gesture of parting. Farewell.”

Steve gathered his backpack and portfolio case and headed home.


	2. Chapter 2

 The following Monday, Tony beckoned Steve up to the front at the end of class and held out his hand. In it was a hundred and a phone.

“I'm sorry, what?” Steve stared at them dumbly.

“Take it!”

“What _is_ this?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Money for groceries, and—”

“They didn't cost that much!” Steve threw up his hands and backed away.

Tony shrugged. “No? Well. You—I usually do Peapod. And you didn't leave a receipt. So I guessed.”

“Um. 30 should be fine. Plenty, in fact.”

“Whatever. Just take it.”

“I...can't! And why are you giving me your phone?!”

“Wooster said you don't have a 'mobile,' so I'm giving you one!”

“You can't just—I can't accept it!”

“Why not? It's new! I mean. I designed it! I wanna test how well it works anyway, so really you'll be doing  _me_ a favour. Then I can test all sorts of stuff—user interface, range, battery life, reception quality, durability, all that shit. Come on. Do me the favour. Besides, what if I need to get a hold of you?”

Steve stared at the offered gadget, flushing. It was blue and striped with red, decked out with white stars. “I can't.”

“You can.” Tony pressed it into his hand.

The bad part about snatching his hand back was that he took the phone with him.

“My number's already in there. Hey, Wooster really likes you. I'll be having a party soon. I'll text you. Adios!”

And then Tony was breezing by him out of the lecture hall, the hundred stuffed in his back pocket, phone in his hand.

Steve sighed and dropped it into his pocket also to play with at home.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

He almost dropped the phone when it said, “Hello, Master Rogers” as he turned it on.

“Wooster?”

“Hello, Master Rogers. I am Jeeves, the interactive interface system for your mobile. Let's get to know your new mobile device.”

Some time later he'd exchanged greeting texts with Tony whose number was already in the phone like he'd said, and was currently calling his mother.

“Hi, Stevie.”

“Hey, Mom. How are you?”  
“I'm good, good. Wow, you sound right next to me!”

He grinned and was glad for the phone. “Neat. New phone.”

“You bought a new one?”

“Aw, no. Part of a testing trial. Here, mom, you want the number?”

“I got it on the caller-ID, baby. What's going on?”

“Nothing. Just checking in.” He grinned at his mom's chuckle through the line. The quality  _was_ amazing.

“I'm good, baby. How are your classes going?”

“Great. Really good. Design is great. I love Figure Drawing. It's my favourite. People are all so different.” He frowned at the knock on his door. “One sec, ma. Someone's at my door.”

“That's fine, Stevie. You go ahead. We'll chat later. Love you!”

“Love you too, mom.” He hung up and answered the door mid-knock.

“Dude! Where you been?” Clint tapped his foot in the hall.

“Hey.”

“Dinner, big guy! Let's go! Hey, is that new?”

Steve jerked his hand back out of Clint's grasp. “Yes. And I've seen your phone, so you're not touching it.”

“Dude! It looks like a sweet phone! I wanna see it!”

Steve shook his head, grabbed his keys, and locked the door. “Let's go to dinner.”

Clint nagged behind him the whole way down to the cafeteria.

“Clint! Enough. It's not even mine for good! Sorry.” But Tony's spiel about durability ran through his head.

“No shit! Where'd you get it?” He handed Steve a tray. Leaning closer, Clint gaped. “What the hell man?! Is that a Stark  _phone_ ?!”

Steve frowned, pushing the thing into his pocket. “Uh. Yeah?”

“How the hell did you get a  _Stark_ phone?! They're not even on the market yet. Aw  _hell_ no! You been screwin' the milkman!”

“Clint! I have no idea what you're talking about!” It sounded scandalous, however, so of course, he was flushed.

“ _Stark,_ man!” Clint threw up his hands once he set his tray down at the buffet. “You're taking Stark Jr's class. Tell me you're not sleeping with that son of a bitch!”

“What?! No! I'm not! Keep your voice down! I don't—he doesn't—”

“Dude. Calm the fuck down. But seriously, man. How'd you get one?”

“ _Jesus_ ! He gave it to me, okay!” Steve dropped more spinach mash or whatever-it-was on his plate and then stalked through the dining hall to sit with Carol, Jessica, and Luke. “Hey.”

“Hey Steve,” Carol said, Luke grunting next to her. Jessica waved, mouth full, from Luke's other side.

“Man, you guys aren't gonna believe this!”

“Clint, shut  _up_ !” Steve protested.

“Rogers has a  _Stark phone_ !”

Carol blinked at him in surprise, Jessica and Luke staring blankly at Barton.

“That what you been raving 'bout past month?” Luke asked finally.

“Yes!” Clint sat.

“How'd you get one of Stark's phones?” Carol asked.

“You know him?” Steve asked back.

She dropped her eyes, cheeks flushed. “We uh...”

“Don't need to know anymore,” Steve said firmly. “I don't understand what the big fuss is about.”

“Because they're fucking awesome,” Clint whined.

“They are supposed to be amazing,” Carol said with an eye-roll in Clint's direction.

“Tony gave it to me. They're his design, I think. At least—”

“ _Tony_ ?”

“Shut  _up_ , Clint. It's what all the students call him. Why am I defending myself!”

Carol chuckled. “One often feels one needs to defend oneself when you know Tony Stark.”

“He's my professor,” he said firmly. “I didn't have a cell phone. Now, how has everyone's days been?”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The next week, however, he was Tony's assistant demonstrator  _whatever_ when they had lab. Clint patted him on the back consolingly when he related the story later. Steve didn't think he needed the consoling, but he kept quiet. Then went back to his room, ignored his room-mate's obnoxious music and sent Tony an email about how well his phone worked.

He got a witty reply back that made Steve chuckle. Tony invited him to a party, but midterms were coming up and he had projects to finish.

The next week, Tony didn't show for lecture. And there was no explanation for his absence. He mentioned it to Clint Wednesday evening and Clint stared at him.

“What?”

“Man, you really do have your head up your ass...” Clint shook his head. “Dude, his  _parents_ died.”

Steve felt the blood rush from his head. “Oh God.”

“Don't you see the news? I thought you read papers!”

“I...! Studying! No TV—I've been— _shit_ .”

Clint's eyes widened and he set down his fork. “I've never really heard you swear before. Why are you...for him?”

“I don't know what that means.” He got the phone out an quickly sent Tony a text asking him if he was okay and if he needed anything, then set it down on top of the table so he'd be able to see the response.

“You're all...I dunno. Why do you care so much? I mean, this is above and beyond normal-Steve levesl of caring.”

“He's just a  _kid_ , Clint! And to lose both your parents... He's not that bad a guy.”

Clint groaned. “Oh my God. You like the son-of-a-bitch.”

“I do not. Not like...” he could feel himself flushing.

“I thought you didn't... What about Peggy from high school?”

“Oh my God.” Steve dropped his head into his hands. Then his phone beeped.

“Ooh, Stark?” Clint snatched the phone with a grin and leaned back away from Steve's hand.

“Clinton Francis Barton,” he ordered. “Give that here.”

Wincing at the use of his full name, Clint handed the phone over. “Jesus, you're scary when you're mad.”

“He just lost his  _parents_ !” The message wasn't from Tony. It was from Wooster.

_Master Stark could use some human company_ .

“I gotta go.” Steve stood.

“Where?!”

“Stark's.”

“Dude, you know where he lives!?”

“Stop giving me a hard time about this, Clint. He's not a bad guy.” Steve dropped off his dishes, stopped by his room for a jacket, felt bad for a minute for missing his evening class, and then headed over to Tony's.

He hesitated on the front porch, but the front door clicked and Steve opened it quietly.

“Good evening, Master Rogers,” Wooster's voice said quietly. “It is good you're here.”

“Um, hello, Wooster.” Steve kept his shoes on, glad he was skipping class if the amount of broken glass and machinery were any indications of how Tony was. His heart clenched as he thought of his own mother.

“Master Stark is in the basement.”

Steve nodded and then said, “Okay. Thanks” in case an AI butler couldn't see him. Or know what a nod meant.

The door to the basement was half open and when his feet hit the stairs, the scent of liquor hit his nose. Leaving subtlety behind, he tromped down the stairs. “Tony? Tony, where are you?”

“Master Stark is in the northwest corner,” Wooster said.

“Traitorrrrr....” a voice slurred.

Steve made his way through the maze of equipment and finally found Tony slumped on a desk, fingers holding limply to an almost empty bottle of Scotch, the other arm cradling a bottle of whiskey to his chest. “Shit...”

“Oh heeeey... i's Cap'n 'Merica...” Tony rolled, the open bottle falling with a crash that didn't even make him flinch. “Why're you here?”

“I...uh...” he breathed through his mouth. “Came by to see how you were?”

Tony's pale blues locked onto his face as he sat, swaying.

“When was the funeral?”

“It was four days ago, Master Rogers.”

“You let him in here, Wooshter?” Tony accused the air, wiping his sweaty face on his very rumpled, very stained, very expensive-looking shirt.

“Tony, have you showered since you got home?” he asked gently.

“No.” Tony stared at him steadily despite the weaving the rest of his body was doing. He pushed himself off the desk on a third try and them promptly sank to the ground.

Steve grabbed him on the way and hoisted him half over his shoulder. “This is awkward... Come on, Tony. I bet a shower would be nice. Yeah? Get you out of these... Wow. Smelly. Clothes.” Staggering a bit with Tony's arms around his back, legs hanging loosely around his hips, Steve made his way upstairs feeling like he was carrying a giant baby.

Tony's bathroom was a tiny thing. But he got in there quick enough to set Tony in front of the toilet when he said, “I'm gonna...”

“Here; here's some water. Rinse your mouth out,” he said, swiping at his face with a paper towel before handing him the cup.

Tony lurched again and coughed into the toilet.

Steve sighed. “It's okay...”

“It's not... fucking...okay.”

“No, of course not.” He started the shower to keep from hugging Tony. He didn't know the guy. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“My  _losh_ ?” Tony snorted, reeling on the floor. “Nn'you don' geddit. Tony Shtark, bilan...byil...rich guy's shon, Mommy an' Daddy never....never had time ta care. Dumb ba...bastarrrrd left me th'company. Half it my ideas anyway... 'Cause I'm a genus. Ha. Humanus. Geniush.”

“Oh Tony...” He bit his lip and knelt in front of him, pulling him into his arms, half into his lap.

Tony flinched and then moulded boneless to Steve, face buried in his shoulder. “Give good hugs... like I'd thought...” Tony muttered as he sniffed and then shuddered, sobs shaking him.

Steve let him cry, rubbing his back and making the same sorts of soothing noises he'd made to kids who had nightmares when he used to babysit. In between the sobs, Tony gave short speeches full of curses about how his parents were too  _busy_ , too many company functions, he was good enough for his mind but not to be a son?, he was only the most geniusy genius out there, he just wanted to make his dad proud, god dammit. But Dad didn't care, and now he never would... Tony cut off with a hiccup and then threw up down the front of Steve's shirt.

“Sor...sorry...” Tony rolled off Steve's lap.

Sighing, he stood. “It's okay. Take a shower, Tony. You'll feel better.” He watched him fight with his shirt. “Do you need help?”

“Got by fer ten years without it, din't I...?” He cursed as his fingers fumbled the buttons and then just ripped.

“Oh. Wow. Okay. Shirt destroyed.  _Tony_ . Let me help you before you look like a barbarian.” He helped Tony out of the sleeveless top beneath. “I really hope you don't remember this tomorrow.”

“Cap,” Tony snorted, bracing his hands on Steve's shoulders. “I'll still be  _drunk_ t'morrow... An I all...always renember. 'Member.”

“I hope not...” Unbuckling Tony's belt, he undid his wrinkled slacks and pulled them off, Tony rolling backwards and wincing as his head hit the wall. “Geeze. Sorry.”

Tony giggled. “Cap'n 'merica! Undreshing me!”

“Yes. It's a joy and pleasure,” he drawled, feeling his face heat anyway. “Can you manage your boxers?” He dropped Tony's socks into the pile of clothing. “Here. Stand up.” Turning, Steve adjusted the water temperature and then turned on the head. “Are you—oh my god.  _Tony_ .” Steve slapped his hands over his eyes. “Get your... Tony stop touching that.”

“My penisssss...”

“ _Yes_ . You—get in the shower, Tony. I'll...be back to check on you in a minute. Um. Wooster?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“I...uh. Call me if he's drowning?”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Does Tony have his laundry dry-cleaned?”

“Yes, Master Rogers.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” He helped Tony over the lip of the tub and then dropped his clothes into a plastic bag, stripping off his own t-shirt and doing the same. “Aw, crap...” Then dropped his jeans into the bag too. “Tony, I'm borrowing pants,” he called into the bathroom. Rummaging through drawers, he finally found a pair of sweatpants that would fit.

“Master Rogers, there is a woman approaching the door. She is one of Tony's father's employees.”

“Should I... let her in?” Steve paused at the top of the stairs.

“She has come by the past two days, Master Rogers.”

Steve sighed. “Let me get a shirt.”

The woman blinked when he opened the door. “Hello, gorgeous.”

Damn his quick propensity for blushing.

Then she shook herself. “Oh my God. I'm so sorry. That was...extremely unprofessional of me. Pepper Potts.”

Steve shook the offered hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“Are you Tony's boyfriend?” She used his shock to edge around him into the house.

“B-boy-what?! No. No... I'm a.” He frowned. “Well. I guess a friend.”

She smiled tightly. “Interesting. Well. I'm Mr. Stark's— _was_ Mr. Stark's personal assistant. And now that Tony's been handed the company. I suppose I'll be Tony's, if he wants to keep me on. I came to—”

“Master Rogers.”

Steve held up a finger. “Yeah?”

“Master Stark seems to have some issues in the shower.”

Smiling apologetically at the surprised Miss Potts, he took the stairs in twos and found Tony crumpled in the shower, mouth open and collected water. He slammed the knob and then lifted Tony out of the water, towelled him off as best he could and then laid him in the bed, tucking the covers up around him.

“Okay, Mr. Rogers—”

“Steve,” he corrected, coming down the stairs.

“Steve. I need Mr. Stark—”

“Tony.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. He's got a company to run. I need him to come to LA with me—”

“Miss Potts—”

“Pepper.” She said with a sharp grin.

“Tony's really in no condition to go anywhere right now.”

“Steve. You seem like a nice guy. But this is a multi-billion dollar company. And it needs a CEO. Not to mention our main idea-guy. Which, though common knowledge wouldn't have it, has kind of been Tony for the past two years anyway.”

He folded his arms and settled on a glove that always got the kids to do what he wanted. “Mr. St— _Tony_ is currently naked and passed out drunk in his bed. And these are not my clothes because Tony puked on them. And when I got here, he was drunk in the basement, in the suit he'd worn to the funeral, cradling a bottle he's not old enough to buy. Tony Stark isn't in any condition to be doing anything for anyone, but it sounds to me like people could be doing things for Tony stark. Besides. He's a teacher here. He can't just run off.”

“I...” She sighed and switched her purse to her other shoulder. “Okay. Fine. That's fine. You don't really know the whole story here—”

“No, I don't,” he agreed. “But I am the one Tony both cried  _and_ puked on, so I have some entitlement here.”

“He cried?” Pepper blinked. “He didn't cry at the funeral.”

“I think he had to get drunk to do it,” Steve said, hunching a little. “Listen. I think this is just a really bad time to do this. Is there someone you can appoint temporarily? He can probably fly out over Thanksgiving or something.'

A small smile played over Pepper's lips. “Yeah. Sure. Hey, Tony needs a guy like you around.”

Steve blinked.

“I don't think... People don't really care, you know? Me either. But. I mean, here I am thinking: company! And the kid's parents just died. I'll get in touch with him later. Thanks, Steve. I'll figure something out.”

“Um. Right. Did... Was there anything I could get you? Sorry. I. Water?”

Pepper smiled. “No. Thank you. I'll go. Wait. Let me get your phone number.”

“My number? Why?”

“You seem like someone Tony can rely on.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” He pulled out the phone and began clicking through the options until he found his number.

“Woah! Is that the new—woah woah woah!” And then Pepper reached out to grab the phone.

Steve jerked back out of habit.

“Sorry. I...”

“No. Here. Just program yours in and I'll text you or call you.” He handed it over.

“That son of a bitch!” Pepper turned the thing over, staring at it.

“What?”

“This is... This is light-years ahead of the old design. He's holding out on us!”

“Tony gave that to me.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, punched some buttons, and then gave it back. “No need to get defensive. It's...it's a very nice design. Much better than what he's given us.”

He said it was a test design?” Steve pulled up Pepper's name.

“Works well?”

“Yeah. Really well.” Sent her a text.

“Thanks. Okay. You go tend to our boy and I'm sure I'll see more of you later, Steve.”

“Bye, Miss Potts.”

“Pepper. Don't worry. I won't let Tony get eaten alive by corporate piranhas.”

“Believe it or not,” he said with a wry smile, “I'm not too worried about it.”

She laughed and was gone, heels echoing from the sidewalk.

Sighing, Steve got two glasses of water and went back upstairs to coax Tony into drinking at least one of them. Once accomplished, he left the trash can next to his bed and the extra glass of water on the table. Making his way back downstairs, he did a little clean-up so no one would be stepping on glass and sharp metal, found a piece of paper, and wrote Tony a short note saying to call if he needed anything and he hoped he'd see him on Monday.

He got to sleep shortly before 1:30.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, ignore my lack of knowledge concerning the MIT campus and surrounding area...

 Monday did see Tony back in class. Even if it was more like a ghost of Tony than anything else.

“Pop quiz. Paper out. Name at the top. You know the drill,” he said, fiddling with his computer after turning the projector on, muttering about the stupid thing not working.

There were groans all around the classroom as Steve tucked his folders under his seat and chewed the end of his pencil. There were dark circles under Tony's eyes and he stood hunched and fragile-looking.

“Man, this sucks!” a kid said in a loud whisper.

“Shut up,” Tony said flatly.

“Didn't your mother teach you manners, Stark?” another voice snorted.

Tony froze. Eyes still focused on his computer.

“You piece of shit!” Steve said, on his feet before he really knew what he was doing. His mouth kept going even while his brain baulked at all of the eyes on him. “His parents just  _died_ . Cut the guy some slack and don't be a dick!”

Several people averted their eyes, flushed, and looked generally shamed-faced.

Steve sat. Lifted his pencil and stared intently at his blank paper.

“Right,” Tony drawled. “Got a problem? Leave. You'll get a nice “F” if you do. Questions at the front. You've got twenty minutes.”

Chancing a look towards the front, Steve was relieved to see a hint of a smile on Tony's face and life in his eyes. Tony caught him looking and winked. Steve scowled into his paper, flushing again.

He finished the quiz, thinking he'd done well and shuffled up to the front to turn it in.

“Captain America,” Tony said quietly, “defending the pathetic and parentless again!”

He scowled. “You're not pathetic,” he whispered back. “They're your  _parents_ !”

Tony snorted, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah. They didn't care about me. And here I am, all a mess 'cause they're gone.” He paused as another kid came down, dropped his paper and left. “Whatever, I guess I'm trying to say thanks. But I don't need you to—”

“Oh God. No. I didn't. I'm sorry. They were just being jerks, and I—”

“Hey. Let me take you to dinner. As thanks. Beats dorm food,” he said casually. “I've got nothing left in the fridge.”

“You ate all that casserole?” Steve asked, brows flying up.

The kid looked away, embarrassed, if Steve didn't know better. “Turns out you don't eat any—” Paused again. “Eat anything 'cept for liquor for five days and you're pretty hungry.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“So that a yes?”

“Uh...”

“C'mon. I could use the company.” He gave Steve a tired grin.

“Oh fine. Call me. I should go. This is awkward.” He ducked out of the lecture hall and breathed into the cool fall air and let his heart settle. This was... Shit. Steve was screwed. Tony. He liked Tony? This was not good. He shouldn't. Nibbling his lip, he took the long way around the quad to his dorm.

Tony.

Tony was a wreck. Steve went for that?

Tony was younger than him. Okay. Workable. He was... Well, he wasn't mature. But he had life experience.

Tony was his teacher.  _So_ not okay. Come back to this. 

Tony was a genius. Yeah, that was hot.

Tony had an attitude and a smart mouth. Probably not the best thing to think about how that worked in bed right now...

Tony was rich? So?

Tony was independent. Was he though?

Tony was attractive. Oh yes. Blue eyes pinning you. Strong for a kid. Looked amazing in a suit. Looked great dishevelled. Looked great naked...

Steve shook his head.

The big question now was: Is Tony interested?

Back at his dorm, Steve set about starting his figure drawing and wait for Tony to get in touch with him.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Tony sent him a text around 4 saying to dress nice and be in front of the dorm at 7.

By the time he'd finished his figure, his arms were covered in charcoal. So he showered. Fishes out the cologne his mom had got him for Christmas. Put on his nice clothes. Felt a little like the mouse you gave a cookie to. He had his slacks on when there was a knock on the door.

“Steve! You coming for dinner?” Clint said once finished pounding.

“Shi—crap.” He draped the towel around his shoulders and opened the door. “Hey Clint. You go ahead. I'm not coming tonight. See you for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah sure. Dude... you wearing slacks?”

“Oh. Yeah. See ya, Clint.”

“Woah woah woah!” His hand shot out to prevent Steve from closing the door. “Are you getting—do you have a  _date_ ?”

He repressed the urge to sigh aloud. “ _No_ . I'm just going out. It's a nice restaurant.”

“It's a  _date_ !” Clint said with a shit-eating grin.

“It is not. Goodbye, Clint.” He pushed at the other man, the two of them shuffling and wrestling in the doorway until Steve edged him out and he could close the door and lock it. Clint cackled on the other side.

He finished getting ready and loitered by the steps of the front of the building. He heard the car before he saw the red and gold custom job Porshe swing through the circle drive.

“Steve! Jump in!”

Hiding his grin with a shake of his head, Steve pulled the door open and slid into the supple leather. “Why do you even  _own_ a car like this!”

“Like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell of a lot more gas-efficient. I redid the engine. Rebuilt the car. Well. Really I built it from the ground up. I took the chassis and frame and made it a little more stream-lined. Then I built the engine from the ground up, got this—sorry. You look bored.”

“No! No that's fascinating. Amazing. The only thing I ever made any progress on was my dad's old bike.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It's an old Royal Enfield. 1965 Continental GT 250.”

Tony whistled. “Quality! That's awesome.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” he agreed, feeling warm. “So...Where are we going?”

“Surprise,” Tony breezed. “You'll see. You like Italian? Too bad. It's Italian.”

Steve chuckled. “Italian's fine.” He watched the campus pass by as they headed towards the city proper. Tony pulled up to a fancy-looking restaurant, slid out and tossed the keys to the valet. Scouting around the car, he settled a hand on the small of Steve's back and then jumped back.

“Wow. Sorry. Force of habit.” He grinned.

“So...not a date then,” Steve said, surprising himself.

Tony looked slapped.

“Guys don't tend to take each other out to fancy places unless it's a date, or business.”

“Did you want it to be a date? You kind of sound like you want it to be a date? 'Cause I could want it to be a date.”

Steve blinked, heart thudding against his ribs. “Um.” This was suddenly going very different places than what he'd expected.

Tony grinned and resettled the hand at the small of his back and guided him into the restaurant.

The host almost fell over himself in showing Tony and Steve to their table. Tony ordered wine and appetizers and then they were left alone to peruse the menu. Or for Steve to peruse the menu. Tony leant back in his chair, shades hooked in the open collar of his green shirt—complimenting both olive-y skin and blue eyes—black suit perfectly-tailored. Steve sometimes had to remind himself to keep his eyes on his menu. Finally, feeling a little out of his depth, he put it down. “Any recommendations?”

“What d'you like?”

“Anything?” He ducked his head.

“Meat. What d'you like? Chicken? Beef, pork? Duck? Lamb?”

“I've never had duck...”

“Duck it is!” The grin quickly turned into a frown. “Or are you not an adventurous eater?”

“No, no! Duck sounds good. What are you having?”

Tony shrugged, smiling up at the waiter who was suddenly there. “Surprise me.”

Once the waiter was gone, however, Steve didn't know what to say. “So...are you doing okay?”

Tony blinked and then laughed. “Steve. If this is going to be a date, you can't mother me.”

“S-sorry,” he looked down, flushed.

“Geeze. No. No, don't—sorry. I...was a mess. I know. And it was...it was great, you helping me and all.” Now  _Tony_ looked embarrassed.

“Oh God. Do you remember everything?”

“I said I would, didn't I?'

Steve looked away.

“Yes. Including my...drunken nudity.” Then shut up as their appetizers and wine were delivered.

“Tony. Does the restaurant know?”

“That I'm under-age?” He waggled his eyebrows at Steve over the rim of their wine glass. “Of course.”

“But that's...illegal.”

“Oh Steve. College towns hardly care. I am a professor. And I always tip well.”

Steve sighed. “You just make up rules for yourself as you go, don't you.”

“Great, isn't it?” Tony grinned, nibbling on a breaded mushroom.

The grin tugged at his lips anyway.

“You need to loosen up, Cap. Spent your whole life pretty sheltered, huh?”

“No! I grew up in Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn!” Tony popped another mushroom in his mouth. “Here. Have some!”

He took a mushroom. “I'm not sheltered. But...are you? Okay, I mean?”

“Steve, don't ruin a nice thing when you've got. Don't want to talk about my parents.”

“Well if you  _do_ , I'm here.”

“Good old Captain America...”

“Geeze. Stop calling me that.”

“Aw. Lookit you. Blushing again.”

“It's not my fault!”

“So. Art?”

“Huh?”

“What you do?” Tony offered him the last mushroom.

“Thanks. Yeah. Art student!”

“You any good?”

“Wha—”

“Sorry. Rude question. I know better than that, blah blah,” Tony said as if he were filling in for someone else. “Can I see something?”

“My work?” Steve blinked.

“No sunshine, your ass— _yes_ your work!”

“Yeah. Um. You want to come up after dinner? I've got some finished pieces.”

“Is that artist's code for sex?”

“What?!  _No_ !”

Tony laughed a little sheepishly. “Sorry... I'm not... I haven't... People...” He took a deep breath. “Let me try again. I'm being an ass because you're nice to me and don't want anything, and I don't know how to handle that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah...” He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twirling the wine glass stem.

“Would it help if I wanted something?”

“Probably.” Tony shrugged.

“Oh.” Beat. “I want an 'A'?”

“Already told you, Rogers, I don't sleep with my students for good grades,” Tony rattled off.

Steve laughed, leaning back as the waiter placed their plates down. “Wow! This smells really good. What did you get?”

“Looks like fish.” Tony picked up his fork, and they ate in relative peace, conversation bouncing around from physics to art to electronics to pets and Steve's lack-there-of because of his allergies as a child. Tony'd had-has two horses, three dogs, tropical fish, and a lizard. “Another sign of parents giving their kid stuff so they don't notice they're not around.”

“Tony.”

“You finished—yes  _I'm_ finished. Back to your place?”

“Oh. Um. Sure.” Tony didn't let him see the cheque, paid quickly, and then lead Steve out where the valet waited with Tony's car. “Red and gold your favourite colours?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

“Your car. Your laptop. You wear a lot of red shirts.” Steve listed, looking out the window. “But you look really good in that green. Probably a solid cobalt blue too—and charcoal gray—what?” He turned to find Tony staring at him. “What? Tony! Eyes on the road!”

Tony looked back to the road, fingers gripping the steering wheel.

“What? What did I say?”

“No. You're fine,” Tony said quietly. “What do you want, Steve?”

“I don't... I thought... Tony, I don't want anything,” Steve replied, confused.

Tony shook his head. “Never mind.”

Frowning, Steve looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, take a right at the next street. I guess...” He nibbled his lip. “I guess I'd like to be friends. If that's okay?”

Tony's brows flew up as he stared at Steve. “Huh.”

“Two streets after this, make—”

“Steve, I  _know_ the way back to your dorm. Genius, remember?” His eyes were back on the street, but under the quick flash of a passed streetlight, Steve could have swore Tony was blushing. Things were silent for the next few minutes. Tony licked his lips and said, “Friends?”

“Yeah. That's fine, right? I mean nothing says a professor and a student can't be friends?” He jumped out of the car as soon as Tony parked.

“Um. Yeah. That's....Sure.”

Steve grinned and took his hand, since Tony seemed a little dazed. “Let me show you my art!” Avoiding the elevators, Steve got Tony to his room without anyone seeing. Then locked the door behind Tony. “What?” he said defensively when he turned and saw Tony's face.

“Well gee, Rogers. Anyone might think you're ashamed to be seen with me...”

His cheeks heated. “N-no... It's just...”

“Relax. I'm only messing with you.”

But Tony looked uncomfortable. “I don't want to be interrupted,” Steve blurted. “And one of my friends doesn't like you so much.” He ducked his head.

“On principle?” Tony drawled.

“Uh. No. He took your class. Clint Barton.”

Tony's face immediately pinched comically. “You're  _friends_ with that ass!”

“Yes....”

Tony groaned. “Kid's an idiot...”

“Tony,  _no one_ here is an idiot...”

“You don't actually  _believe_ that, do you?”

Turning away fro his pitying gaze, Steve opened his closet and pulled out his portfolio. “Here. My art.”

Tony chuckled and sat on his bed, opening the thing and pulling the pieces out. Nodding over the still-lifes, humming approvingly over the landscapes. He paused over his first portrait. “Wow... Who's this? You obviously love her...”

“Oh. My mom.”

Tony's eyes softened and he nodded and set it aside. The next was a drawing model. The one after that, Steve's friend Carol. “Wow. She's gorgeous.”

“Yeah. Carol's pretty awesome.”

“I think I remember her.”

Steve nodded. “And over there is the newest piece I'm working on.” He gestured gestured to the easel.

Tony set Carol's portrait down and slipped his hands into his into his pockets to stand in front of it.

Steve wanted to draw it.

“You're really good, Steve.”

“Thanks. Uh. Don't move?” He reached behind his bed and grabbed his giant sketchbook and dug a pencil out of his duvet.

“You gonna draw me?”

“Yeah,” Steve pulled his knees up and leant the pad against them. “Don't move. And...stop smiling. Look thoughtful again...” And drew.

It wasn't until the third exaggerated sigh that Steve shook himself and looked at Tony-the-human-being not Tony-the-art-model. “Oh my gosh. Sorry!”

“Can I move?”

“Yeah. Yeah, no. One more minute?”

Tony chuckled. “Sure. I'm expecting great things.”

He flushed and added the finishing touches. “Okay. You can move.”

Tony skirted around to perch on the bed behind Steve's shoulder. 'Wow...” he breathed. “That...”

Licking his lips, Steve waited.

“That's me?”

“You don't look in a mirror?” Steve joked quietly. When Tony didn't say anything after a minute, he looked over his shoulder with enough time to catch the soft look.

“Oh. Looks great. Really, Steve.”

“You want it?”

“That wouldn't be too vain?” Tony sat back and dropped his feet over to the floor.

“It's a gift.” He ripped it out carefully and then rolled it and put a rubber band around it before handing it to Tony. “Here.”

He took it hesitantly but then got to his feet with a grin and gave Steve a brief kiss. “You're too good. I should get going. Grading to do. You know. Teacher stuff.”

“Oh. Okay...” He blinked.

“You in there, Cap? Or did I break you?”

“Kissing is okay?”

“Hey. I'm okay with whatever you're okay with,” Tony backed towards the door.

“Then I want to kiss you.”

Tony blinked and then laughed.

Steve stepped back, smoothing his face to not show the stab of hurt. “What?”

“Steve, I'm not a country to conquer.”

“What?”

Hands waving by his face, Tony grinned. “You got this really determined look on your face like you were storming a castle or something.”

He flushed. “Oh.”

“C'mere.”

Once Steve was close enough, Tony grabbed the front of Steve's shirt and rocked up on his toes to meet Steve's lips. It was just lips pressed against lips and the slightly prickly scrub of Tony's moustache. Until Tony growled and ran his tongue along the seam of Steve's lips. Parting obediently, Steve cracked his eyes, looking onto Tony's dark lashes. And smiled.

Tony pulled away. “What?”

“I'm kissing you...” he mumbled, ducking his head.

“You like that, huh? Still not giving you an 'A.'”

“Oh I'll earn that.”

Tony laughed. “Sure, Steve. Well. I'm leaving. You... I don't know what you do. But have fun. I'll see you in class.”

“Yeah. And then?”

“Rogers. I'm surprised by your pluckiness.”

Steve scowled, though his face felt hot. “Pluckiness? Who uses that word anymore?”

“Friday. Come by if you've nothing better to do.”

And as Steve watched him leave, he was sure he'd have nothing better to do.


	4. Chapter 4

 Tuesday he could hardly focus on painting or art history. Wednesday he was pretty sure he didn't learn _anything_ in physics save for the profile of Tony's nose and the bow of his lips. He was pretty sure Tony knew that too, because he winked at Steve. Thursday he turned in his charcoal drawing and hazed through the rest of his work and classes.

Friday.

He tried not to wish the day away, but when Luke snapped his fingers in front of Steve's face, he jumped.

“And awake!”

Steve scowled and returned to his tacos. “What?”

“I asked if you've got Tony on the brain,” Carol said, “and you kind of glazed over. Is our boy in love?”

He flushed, immediately opening the door for Carol and Jessie Drew's teasing.

“Girls, leave the man alone. Bro's got a right to be in love,” Luke said, offering him a fist.

Steve pounded it.

“Granted, I thought he'd be bringin' a lady 'round.”

He flushed harder. “Sorry, Luke.”

Luke shrugged. “Don't matter to me. So long as you don't bring him up here gropin' and all that shit.”

“I...uh. Don't plan on it?”

“Good. 'Cause I don't want to see naked Stark ass. If you know what I mean.”

“But he's got such a nice one!” Carol said.

“Damn girl. Looking at someone else's man?”

She laughed, Jessica frowning as she came over and sat. “Who's looking at my man?”

“No one, baby,” Luke said, kissing her cheek. “Steve's getting' it on with Stark.”

“Whoa, what?!” Jess exclaimed.

Steve dropped his head and groaned. “Alright, enough. My love life is not available for open season.”

“Why not?” Jessica teased. “You've never shown interest in anyone, and you turn such a pretty red!”

Carol laughed. “Just be glad Clint's not here.”

“Ugh.”

“No, he's been fluttering around that foreign girl,” Jessie said. “The French one that looks like she'll break your balls and tie you up to enjoy it.”

Luke shook his head. “Poor boy's gonna be singing soprano.”

“He does have a tragic case of open-mouth-insert-foot,” Steve agreed. Then glanced at the clock. “I have to go.”

“Alrighty. See you later, Steve,” Jessica said.

“Oh.” He paused, standing straddling the bench. “I won't be here this evening.”

“Got a date?”

“Maybe.” And then darted away from his friends' cat-calls and ribbing.

He hurried the hours by, and when his last class was done, he dropped his things off in his room and walked to Tony's place. Pausing on the front stoop with his hand on the doorknob, Steve frowned up in the general direction of Wooster.

“Wooster?”

No reply.

Steve tried the knob and then stepped back and knocked. “Wooster?” Nothing. “Tony?” He waited another few minutes and then dug his phone out of his pocket. Tony had said... No. He'd  _implied_ he'd be here. But if he invited Steve over, then that would assume Tony's presence. Steve didn't come over to hang with Wooster...

He dialled Tony's number.

_I'm sorry; the number you are trying to reach is not available. Please hang up and dial again._

He frowned. Pounded on the door again. “Tony?” Was he mad at him? The phone beat out a rhythm against his thigh. But what about Wooster. He was an AI. Pulling up the text message he'd received from it, Steve typed out 'Wooster?'

' _pnsqbts rogelxns_ '

Okay. Something was wrong.

'Wooster, can you let me in?'

After a minute, there was some whirring grinding noise and his phone beeped.

' _heln xalser pryark—error: unknown error in 'woosterisfunnier_vers08.exe' Please restart system now._ '

Steve yanked at the door, but whatever Tony had done to it, it was solid now. He went around back, but nothing opened. The windows were all locked, as was the cellar door. Hesitating only a second, Steve stripped his hoodie off and wrapped it around his fist to punch in one of the side windows. The alarm went off immediately.

Smoke also curled along the ceiling. Steve cursed and shook his hoodie out calling Tony's name. No answer. The smoke lead him to the basement. Wrapping his hoodie over his face, he rushed down the slightly-charred stairs.

The entire basement was a disaster. A fire burned by a pile of mangled scraps of something that used to have a purpose. Blast marks covered the walls around it making them black and sinister-looking. As he edged closer, his feet crunched and kicked little metal bits on the floor.

“Tony? Tony! Are you in here?”

He ducked under the smoke, noting sirens in the distance, and grit his teeth as he pushed aside hot metal. “Tony!  _Tony_ !” Back towards the corner. A foot. “Tony! Tony can you hear me?” he shouted as he fought through the wreckage of his workshop. “Tony!” He inhaled sharply after he pulled aside some tubing, metal, and got a look at him. Pale and bleeding, bruised, shirt ripped, something embedded there. Gnawing his lip, Steve felt for a pulse. Irregular. The sirens were closer. Almost here, Steve guessed. “Tony...? Can you hear me? I'm going to pick you up. I'm sorry if it hurts.” Scooping him into his arms, Steve took the stairs two at a time and reached the main floor, just as the cops swarmed in.

“Freeze!”

“I'm unarmed!” Steve shouted. “He's injured! I think there was an explosion downstairs—he needs medical attention now!”

The cops didn't move for a second, but then the two closest lowered their guns.

“Get him outside to the squad car. We'll take him to the hospital.” One of the guys motioned him out while the other radioed to stand down.

“His name is Tony Sta—”

“We know, kid.”

“He's got shrapnel pieces in his chest or something,” Steve explained as he set Tony down in the back seat. When he stepped back, he grunted as the biggest guy twisted Steve's arms behind his back and cuffed him.

“You sure picked the wrong house to rob today, bud.”

“Wha—no! Wait!” He struggled and was pushed into the back of the second squad car. “I'm a student of his! I didn't—” he shouted over his Miranda Rights.

“Son, I advise you to shut your mouth!” the cop said as they pulled away from the kerb.

“I didn't break in!” Steve protested, twisting to watch the car that held Tony speed away.

“You break the window?”

“Of course, I—” He snapped his mouth shut and glared out the front wind shield the rest of the trip to the station.

 

Steve was released after the one night. They'd apparently gotten enough evidence to be able to tell that Steve  _wasn't_ breaking in. He hadn't bothered with a phone call, but once he was released, he called Luke from his cell immediately.

“Hey Steve. Wha—”

“Can you drive down to the police station and pick me up?”

“ _Whoa what_ ? What did you get up to—”

“Can you? And then take me to the hospital?” He paced back and forth on the sidewalk.

“Steve, what the fu—”

“Can you? Or I'll call someone else!”

“Yeah. Yeah!

“Can you leave now?”

Luke grunted. “Yeah. I'm grabbin' my keys. Where you at?”

“It's north of the campus. Take Michigan and left on Sunshine. Hurry please. I'll tell you everything. I promise.”

“Sure. You better. Bye.”

“Bye.” He tucked the phone into his back pocket and paced back and forth until Luke pulled up. Steve jumped in and buckled.

Luke gave him a searching look.

“Yes!” Steve snapped. “I spent the night here, no I didn't deserve it. Yes, I'm innocent. Yes, I technically broke into Tony's house. Yes, they arrested me for it. Yes, I probably also saved his life. If he's still alive...” He choked on that last thought, squeezing his knees and taking a deep slow breath. “Oh God, what if he—”

“Woah. Dude. Calm down,” Luke said, giving him a panicked glance. “I'm sure he's fine. I hear he's a touch sonuva.”

“Clint doesn't know—he hates Tony. And Tony's just a  _kid_ , Luke. He had all sorts of shrapnel in his chest.  _Fuck_ , he was so pale... Bleeding. And he only wears these t-shirts down in his workshop. Something exploded...”

“Jesus,” Luke said lowly. “What the hell happened?”

“I don't know,” Steve said miserably, wringing his hands in his lap. “It's all screwed up! Now he's in the hospital, and I don't know if he's okay because I got arrested!” Beat. “And he doesn't even have a next of kin anymore!” Luke didn't say anything. He parked after Steve jumped out by the entry way and ran in.

“Tony Stark?” he asked the receptionist.

“Relationship?”

Steve hesitated. “Uh. Student? Friend?” Stuttered over 'boyfriend.' “I'm Steve Rogers.”

The confusion cleared off her face and the receptionist pointed down the hall. “Room 118.”

“Thanks!” And ran down the hall. He slowed at the doorway and raised his hand, hovering a moment before he knocked softly and pushed the door open. He cringed a little at the sight of Tony, still pale and under a cocoon of wives and tubes. “Oh Tony...”

“He had emergency surgery.”

He jumped. “Oh... You're...”

The redhead smiled. “Pepper.”

“Right.” He blinked at her. “How is he?”

“Emergency surgery, but some of the pieces of shrapnel embedded themselves too close to his heart to operate. So... He needs some sort of pace-maker. They're using some complicated electromagnetic field to keep them from tearing up his heart. But...” Pepper shrugged. “It can't last forever.”

He stared at Tony. “He'd hate being confined to the bed. Has he woken at all?”

“Surfaced, moaned. They put him under again.”

Steve nodded dumbly. “Will they bring him out?”

“Once he's stable for a while longer. It was 'Steve,' right?”

“Yeah. Steve. Steve Rogers.” He scooted closer to Tony and sank into a chair.

“Steve? You okay, honey?”

“Fine. I'm fine. Geeze. We were going to hang out Friday night. I had to break in. Got arrested...”

“Oh. That was you? I'll have the charges dropped immediately. You saved his life.”

“I know.”

“Steve?”

He jerked. “Luke. Uh. This is Miss Pepper Potts. The P.A. For Tony's company.”

“Jesus, Steve. You all here? Sorry. Hi, Miss Potts. I'm Luke Cage. Friend of Steve's.”

Pepper nodded and then she pulled Luke out into the hall where they stood in muted conversation. Steve ignored them and reached for Tony's hand.

“Oh Tony... What did you do...?”

 

It wasn't until two days later that they decided to risk letting Tony out of his medically induced coma. Steve made sure he was there.

“Tony...?” he said quietly, his hand firmly between Steve's.

His eyelids fluttered.

“Tony?”

He groaned and twitched as he shifted.

“Tony, it's Steve.”

Eyelids cracking, Tony's fingers jumped in Steve's hand. “St...” He gave a weak cough that dissolved into a ready noise of pain. “Steve. Hey.”

“Hey, Tony.”

“Wow... That bad, huh? You're being all...nice.”

“I'm always nice to you,” Steve said, moving back as nurses moved in to monitor his vitals.

“Uh-huh. What happened.”

“Mister Stark—”

“Ugh. Tony. Please,” he rasped.

“You have shrapnel and metal too close to your heart to operate. There are bits and pieces that are threatening to tear up your arteries.”

Tony grimaced.

“We already went ahead with emergency surgery to remove what we could. We're using complicated machinery to keep you alive, so we need you to keep as still as possible. Refrain from any sharp or sudden movements.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You can tell me. I'm a genius. Electromagnetic?”

The nurse blinked, surprised and set his chart down. “You understand this stuff?”

“He does,” Steve said. “Teaches it. At MIT.”

“Oh.” She blinked again. “Well, I don't fully understand it, but as near as. I can tell, they're just using an electromagnetic field to keep the pieces stationary and prevent them from tearing into your heart tissue. It uh... it's not transportable and it's not completely... Well. It's a bit experimental. Not designed for long-term usage.”

He nodded once. “Thanks.”

She hovered a minute and then left.

“Well that's not going to fly.”

“Tony—”

“Steve. How do you feel about being my hands and eyes. In fact, how do you feel about being my dogsbody?”

“Your what?”

“I need you to...Okay. Get me a sheet of paper and a pen. I'm gonna make a list for you. I need you to bring me some stuff. Then I'm going to need you to go back to my workshop—”

“Tony—”

“And do—”

“Your workshop that's currently a disaster? Seriously, Tony. Why do you think you're like this!?” Steve gestured at him, trying to keep Tony's hand in his.

“Wait, what?” He paled.

“Something exploded in your workshop and you got caught in the blast. Why did you think you were in the hospital?”

“O-ow. Ow. Steve, my hand. My hand!”

Steve dropped it instantly and gripped his knee instead, glaring at his feet. “Sorry. I just. Jesus, Tony. We were going to...I don't know.” When he looked back at Tony, he was staring out the door, frowning, face pale.

“You don't... You didn't have to stay you know. You can go. I'll figure something out.”

“Oh no. Tony. No, that's not what I...” Steve sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples. “You always misunderstand me. I'm  _worried_ .”

Tony stared at him out of the corner of his eye.

Steve straightened and said flatly. “When I couldn't get in and Wooster didn't answer me properly, I broke a window to get in and found you downstairs.” Tony's jaw dropped. “Your alarm system still worked though.”

“The cops came?”

“Yes. And I was arrested.”

He let out a guffaw and then winced, pressing fingers to his chest. “Jesus. Well. There goes your perfect record.”

“Don't joke. I spent the whole night there, unsure whether you were alive or dead!”

Expression sobering, Tony extended his hand on top of Steve's that still lay on the bed. “I uh.... Sorry. But I need your help. We'll have to use the campus workshop, Steve, would you help me? Please? I think I can save myself.”

“Of course. I'll do whatever I can.”

Tony let out a sigh and nodded. “Then get me a pen and paper so I can make my list of what I'll need.”


	5. Chapter 5

 Tony's laptop was fried, but he disentangled it from the dead wires and wreckage to bring it in anyway. Tony said the hard drive would be fine—something about a black box machine? He also found the fine grade wire Tony had on the other end of the workshop. It was surprisingly neat. All of it coiled in well-labelled drawers. Steve grabbed the sizes Tony had requested, also the screws, bolts, supply of solder, wire-strippers, couplings, 4 different sizes of pliers, and two different clamps. He also found the strange camera device in Tony's den.

Once he'd delivered these things to Tony's hospital room, he was directed to his lab at MIT.

“You'll have to do the welding, cutting, assembling, yada yada. Ask Jane Foster for help and you can ask Hank Pym if you can find him.”

“But what if I do something wrong?”

“Don't worry. I'll be doing the wiring. Listen, first I need you to make the casing. I'll check all your work and we'll fix it if anything's wrong. That's half the purpose of this camera thingy. You wear it like a headlamp, and I can see everything you do. We'll hook it up to my spare laptop, and I'll have a video-feed. We'll be able to talk too, so I don't get bored.”

Steve rolled his eyes to cover how terrified he was. He didn't work with electronics very often. And when he did, Clint called him a Luddite. Which was both unfair and untrue.

“Steve.”

“Huh?”

“It'll be fine. I'll guide you through it. Now you're gonna take half of this stuff over to my second workshop. We need to get started.” Tony looked pale and weak in the hospital bed. Drawn, like under consistent strain.

“Of course.” He picked up the camera headband device while Tony started up the spare computer. His fingers flew over the keyboard once it was started up and then he beckoned Steve closer.

While he was fiddling with the headband part of it, he mumbled, “You're missing class.”

Steve blinked. “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

“I'm a bad influence...” Tony said with a self-deprecating grin, not meeting Steve's eyes.

“Tony, I'm helping save your life. I count that worth it. Besides, I spoke to my professors and they're being lenient about it.”

“Did you lie to them?”

“Family emergency,” Steve mumbled, flushing. He didn't mention Clint's giving him crap when he finally got back to his dorm to shower and change his clothes. Or Luke's measured glances as he dropped Steve off before finally just dropping his keys in Steve's hand and threatening bodily harm if his baby was damaged.

Tony, when Steve snuck a glance at his face, looked amused and flushed around the cheeks. “Well. Thanks,” he said gruffly. “I guess if we pull this off, I'll give you that 'A.'”

Steve jerked his head to stare properly. “That's no—”

“Steve,” Tony chuckled. “This is complicated stuff. You'll have earned it. Saving my life? Added bonus. Oh come on. Don't scowl.”

“Have you done this before? Made...whatever it is we're making?” Steve accepted the headband camera back and put it on as Tony gestured.

“Uh...”

Steve felt his stomach tie up. “Tony...?”

“Well, it's half my dad's design—originally my dad's design—I've repurposed it and improved it. We—I've—uh... never made one this small.”

“How small _have_ you made it?” He didn't think he really wanted to hear the answer.

“Smallest is probably about 30 feet in diameter,” he mumbled.

Steve groaned.

“Hey! Hey, I can  _do_ this. I  _have_ to do this.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He fell silent a moment, trying not to think of all the ways this could go wrong.

“And Steve...? You can do this.” Tony put a hand over Steve's and kept his gaze until Steve looked away.

“Right. Let's get started then.”

“That's the spirit.” Tony gave his thigh a pat. “The camera works; I've got it linked to my laptop here. I sent a copy of the plans to the printer at the workshop. And don't be intimidated. I'll walk you through everything.”

Lingering just to feel Tony's hand on his leg, Steve sighed when it left and stood. Gathering the things Tony said he'd need into a tote, Steve left and drove Luke's car back to campus. He jumped when he heard Tony's voice by his ear.

“You're a really careful driver. I expected it. But still.”

“Tony?”

“Head camera, Steve.”

“Oh...” And laughed a little. “I probably look like a crazy person.”

“No crazier than usual, Captain,” Tony teased.

He felt a little warmer, Tony's voice in his ear. “Said the pot to the kettle...”

Tony laughed. He sounded good. From afar. But he hadn't missed Tony's fingers pressing the morphine drip when he thought Steve wasn't looking. On the way his face tightened when he moved too much. He was just a kid. Steve would have panicked. He wasn't sure Tony  _wasn't_ panicking. If he was, he was making a good show of it. Losing his parents first and now this. His life wasn't easy.

“Oh. The code to my lab is 2Ed379. There you go. Lights on the lift. Tada! My second home. Well. Technically like my...fourth home? New York, Malibu, my apartment, here...”

Steve chuckled. “Okay, Tony I get it. You're stupidly rich.”

“Heh. Yeah. Stupidly...”

Steve bit his lip as he set the materials and tools down in an open area of counter. Then, for the next almost-five hours, he followed Tony's direction, carefully and thoroughly.

Finally, he groaned and stretched his arms over his head. “I need a break...”

“Right. Yeah. You lesser mortals.”

Steve snorted. “Uh-huh. That's fine, Mr. bad-habits.  _Normal_ people need to eat, sleep,  _pee_ . And sorry, but you're not watching that.”

Tony's laughter rang in his ear. “Why not, Cap?”

He scowled and flushed. “Are you really asking that question?”

“Aw, you're probably blushing. You do it so easily. Don't worry. I won't sexually harass you from a distance.”

Steve took the head camera off and looked into it steadily. “It's not sexual harassment. It's me being unready to have you watching me piss. And look at my dick.”

Tony was quiet a few moments.

“Tony?”

“Yup. Still here.” Steve wished he could see Tony's face. “Um. Great. You just take your potty break. I'll be right here.”

Steve smiled. “Sure thing.” He put the headband down and got lost trying to find the bathroom. He eventually found it and then familiarised himself with the lab level of the building. By the time he was finished with his bathroom break, his phone buzzed halfway down the hall. “Hello?”

“Hey Steve. You're in the lab, right?”

“Uh...yes?”

“Can you let me in for a minute?”

Steve found the door he'd come in and cracked it. “Hey Carol. What are you doing here?”

She shoved a paper bag at him. “I got a call from Tony Stark.”

“What?”

“He said,” Carol prefaced with a wide grin, “that you might be hungry and need some food. He's reimbursing me for bringing you take-out.”

Steve accepted the bag—Chinese—and laughed.

“Oh yeah.  _You_ laugh. I get babysitting duty. What are you doing here? I hear you've hardly been at the dorm, we haven't seen you for meals, and now I have to deal with a crabby Clint.”

“Yeah. Sorry, I'm helping Tony.”

“Helping Tony with  _what_ ? Steve, you're an art student. Not an engineer.”

“It's an emergency. I need to help him.”

Carol's expression shifted from amused to sceptical.

“I'll tell you all about it later. But he trusts me to help him, and I need to.”

“This going to screw up your schooling?”

“Carol, I'm a grown person. I can make my own decisions. Thanks for your concern though.” He folded his arms around the food.

“Ah, there it is. The stubborn stance. Steve, Stark is bad news bears, and...” She sighed. “You're not going to listen. Just be careful, 'kay?”

“Of course. Later.”

“See ya, big boy.”

He rolled his eyes and shut the door, returning to the lab. “Hey, Tony.”

“There you are. I'd almost wondered if you fell in.”

“Well, you called Carol, and she wanted to chat...” Steve put the head camera on. “I'm going to eat, finish this, and then can I bring it over afterwards...?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Awesome,” Tony said. Steve could hear the smile in his voice. “Alright. Now you need to meld the thing. We're going to bend that flat part...”

Steve sat back an hour or so later. “There. Done.”

“Great. Now bring it over quick. Then I'll...” Tony yawned. “Then I'll let you get some well-earned rest.”

“Tony... You sound like you need some rest. I'm sure you've slept less than me, and you need it more than I do.”

“Oh don't give me a hard time. Life-saving is hard work.”

Steve gathered the piece and Luke's keys. “Yeah, but in order to finish up, you'll need to get rest.” Closing the lab behind him, he trotted to Luke's car.

“Don't worry. I'm taking it easy.”

Steve chuckled. “If I know you, that's a lie.”

“Oh yeah. The nurses hate me.”

“Hey. Take a quick nap. I'll be there soon.” Steve merged onto the main road and made it to the hospital in record time since it was mid-afternoon.

Signing himself in, Steve made his way to Tony's room. Paused at the door. Chuckled.

“Stop laughing. I can hear you!”

Steve pushed the door open all the way, gesturing at all of the electrical pieces, wires, and bits that surrounded Tony on the bed, clamp between his teeth. “I've got it.” Steve handed it to him.

Frowning, Tony turned it over in his hands.

“Is it okay?”

“What? Oh. Yeah. It's fine. It'll work.”

“Well, I want it to be better!”

“Steve. It's fine. Go home. Take a break. Get some rest. I'm gonna  _sleep_ . I'll talk to you tomorrow. Sounds good.”

He frowned at Tony. “Are you okay?”

“Steve, I'm tired. So are you. Go get your beauty rest gorgeous. I'll call you when I'm ready for more working.” Tony set the piece down and then beckoned Steve closer. “Gimme a kiss before you go.”

Steve grinned and flushed, but bent forward eagerly, pressing lips against lips. Tony's were dry and cracked, but Steve smiled into the kiss until Tony sighed and sagged back.

“You're gonna be the death of me, Rogers—oh, Jesus. Don't look so upset!”

“Too soon,” Steve said.

“Right, right.” Tony grinned and grabbed his hand. “I'll call you.” Gave it a squeeze. “Go rest.”

Steve stole one more kiss then fled before his face flamed completely.

 

It was two days before Tony called. One before Steve took himself to the hospital and was turned away. Tony was “resting,” he was told. So Steve went home to the dorm and spent his hours drawing angry worried pieces.

When his phone rang Friday morning, Steve dove on it and answered breathlessly.

“Steve. Hey.”

“ _Tony_ . What happened?” He sounded stressed. Worn. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Now I need you to make some stuff for me.”

“Can I come see you first?”

“No. I really need those parts. Get Jane to help you. There's some finely-tuned pieces we'll need...”

“Did you get some rest?”

“No, Steve, I was up 48 hours straight,” he drawled. “ _Yes_ , I slept. Go to the lab, Steve. Jane can usually be found in room 218.”

“Right. Okay.” Steve stumbled to his closet, wincing at the noise. Good thing his room-mate slept like the dead. Throwing on clothes, Steve said goodbye and then snagged Luke's keys and drove cross-campus to the lab. Settling the head cam, Steve followed Tony's instructions until he couldn't, Jane helped him out.

Tony called in Carol to bring Steve food. They ate 'together,' Tony mumbling in his ear for the rest of the day.

“Am I almost finished?”

“Not quite yet.... Steve. Hey Steve. Don't nod off on me.”

“Sorry,” he yawned. “I'm just glad you're okay. I was worried.” More silence on the other end. “Tony?”

“You're such a good guy, Steve. Just a little longer, 'kay? Then we'll finish it up tomorrow.”

“Sure. Hey. Wanna watch a movie?”

“What, tonight?”

“Yeah. I can come there, or we can use the head-cam!”

Tony laughed. “Alright, Rogers. Head-cam it is.”

Laughter infectious, Steve chuckled. “I'm getting the feeling you don't want to see me anymore, Tony.”

“Nonsense. I don't want you to see  _me_ !”

“What?”

“Steve. I'm in a hospital bed. Unshaved. Unshowered. Sunken eyes.”

“And that's different how?”

“Hey! I can still fail you, Rogers!”

Steve laughed. “I'm sure it's not that bad.” There was something he was missing.

“Steve.”

“Fine. Fine. Head-cam it is. Okay. That piece looks right, right?”

“Turn it over... Yeah. Looks good. Okay. Welding. Go to Jane again, clumsy-fingers.”

“It wasn't my fault, the wire was too thin! I'm an artist! I don't have clumsy fingers!”

Tony snorted. “Just go.”

Jane was nice. If a little weird. But she was smart. And willing to help. The welding was finished quickly with her aid. And with the elusive Hank Pym's help, some of the more complicated work was finished more quickly.

“Thanks, Pym,” Tony said.

“Tony says—”

“I  _heard_ Tony. Thanks. Tell him he's welcome and owes me one.”

Steve grinned as Tony muttered into his ear. “Sure.” When Steve looked up again, Pym was gone. Steve picked up some of the pieces to continue assembly.

“Woah woah woah! Steve!”

He froze. “What!? Did I put something in the wrong place?”

“No...” Tony said slowly. “You're doing it  _right_ , I just... I didn't tell you.”

“Oh. Well... I mean. This just made sense.”

“Steve Rogers... are you a latent genius?” Tony laughed. “You'll pass my class.”

“What?”

“All on your own, and you're gonna do great.”

“Oh.”

“Blushing again, Cap?”

“You can't see that,” Steve replied. The compliment had made his cheeks burn.

“Okay. Good job. We made better progress than I expected. So here's what I need you to do. Bring me that piece tomorrow morning, along with a big juicy cheeseburger. And then I'll finish up the electricals. And you'll see me Monday. Sound good?”

“Uh. I guess?”

“Good. Then what are we watching tonight? You have Netflix?”

“No...”

“Wanna borrow mine? We can watch Die Hard 3!”

Steve smiled and finished fiddling with the piece. “As long as you don't make fun of my computer.”

“Only if it's named 'Lincoln.'”

“It's not,” Steve said quickly.

“Oh God. It's named 'Washington' or 'Hancock' or something, isn't it?”

“Tony! It's not named anything!” he laughed. “Okay. I'm done! Going home.”


	6. Chapter 6

 Steve fell asleep halfway through the movie and woke mid-morning to his computer (Jefferson, not Washington, geeze) off, as well as the head-cam. Remote access. He followed the not-so-kind message's instructions on his white board and joined Clint and co. on the quad.

“Look who it is!” Clint chucked the football at him.

“Hey Clint!” He tossed it to Luke. “How are you guys?”

“You'd know if you spent time with us.”

“Sorry, Clint,” Steve said with a grunt as he snatched the ball out of the air and lobbed it to Carol. “I'm just saving someone's life. You know.”

“Ouch,” Clint laughed. “Dark humour from golden boy!”

“Give it a rest, Clint. Steve's been working hard.”

He glanced at Carol in surprise. She gave him a half smile and shrugged. They played until Clint complained one too many times of hunger.

Steve used his afternoon to catch up on school assignments. He called his mom that evening.

Sunday, Steve went through the Wendy's drive through and got two cheeseburgers. “This one's for you,” he said to Tony.

“Ooh! Gimme gimme! The food here is terrible.”

“It's healthy.”

“It's _terrible_.”

“Because it's good for you.” Tony looked bad. His eyes  _were_ sunken, he looked ashen, and, if possible, hooked up to more machines. “Hey. You doing okay? And answer me honestly, Tony.”

The smile slowly melted away and he sighed. “So nosy...”

“Because I _care_ . Because I'm  _worried_ !”

“I know. I know, Steve.” Tony sighed again and tugged at the front of his hospital gown. “This thing we're working on? That's going to save my life? It's going to go over my heart.”

“Okay...”

“ _In_ my body.”

“Wait what? How?”

Tony pulled the gown away revealing the metal circlet that Steve had made, sitting in Tony's chest.  _In_ his chest.

“There's a hole. In your chest. That I helped put there. Oh God.”

“Woah. Steve. Steve, maybe you should sit. Sit!” Tony reached towards him.

Steve sank into a chair.

“I'm okay. At least. I will be. That's what all of this is for. So instead of the giant machine, I'll be able to live and move around normally. You know. Life a real boy.”

“Oh God,” Steve repeated faintly.

“Head between your knees.”

Steve looked up at Tony's pinched and worried face and then laughed. “ _Tony_ . You have a  _hole_ in your chest and you're worried about  _me_ ?”

“You looked like you were going to pass out! And at least my hole is supposed to be there.”

“...not gonna touch that one.” Steve pressed fingers to his temples while Tony snickered.

“Don't worry, Steve. This will save my life.'

“When did that...happen.”

“They did it early last week. You know how I didn't call you?”

“ _Jesus_ .”

“Sorry. I needed it done as quickly as possible. And now that the innards are nearly done, I'll be able to leave. As soon as we're sure it's stable.”

“And how will we be sure it's stable?'

“When I don't blow up— _kidding. STEVE. I'm kidding_ .”

Steve sagged into his chair. “You can't. Oh Tony... Don't do that to me...”

Tony gave him a weak grin. “Sorry. No. I”ll know if it's not working properly, but at least then I'd be able to make any necessary repairs myself.”

“And that'll keep the shrapnel pieces from tearing up your heart.”

“Yes,” Tony said, suddenly tired. “It'll be okay, Steve.”

“Sure. Never mind everything about this is experimental! Oh sure drill a hole in my chest. Go ahead and put an electromagnet in it. Foreign things in my body that might kill me, go for it! Oh God. The kiss. You kissed me.” Steve felt the horror rise up, choking him. He took a slow deep breath to keep his cheeseburger down. “In case... In case...”

Tony dropped his gaze, guilt written across his features.

“You could have  _died_ , and you didn't  _tell_ me?! Leave me with a kiss, die in surgery...” Steve gripped the chair tightly until the plastic handles creaked, panting for air as the world spun. “Oh my God.”

“Steve...”

“ _Tony_ ,” he choked out. “I can't... I need...”

'Wait, Steve! Wait, oh fuck. No. Please,” Tony tripped out, reaching towards Steve. “You don't understand!”

“What don't I understand?” Steve shrieked.

“I can rely on you!” Tony blurted.

“I'm sorry, what?”

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

Sitting again, Steve made himself calm down before asking, “Explain it to me.”

“You... Listen, Steve. You're my student. I should be... You shouldn't have to do this for me.”

“I do whatever I want, Tony.”

“Yeah. Listen. I shouldn't be putting this much responsibility on you.”

“I want to help.”

“ _Steve_ . I'm trying...  _Fuck_ . This means... a lot. To me. That you're helping me. And, you know. Haven't run screaming in the opposite direction.”

“Tony, your life is screwed up. You just lost your parents. You were involved in a traumatic accident. And you've been handed a company to deal with too. These are small life changes. They're huge. And if you're a little lost through them, that's okay. Acceptable even. But you're doing pretty damn well, considering.”

“Fine. There are people who would  _still_ run in the other direction. But that's not what... I can rely on you, Steve. Like no one else. Ever. Except maybe Jarvis. My butler back home,” he explained at Steve's look of confusion.

“Wow. Okay Daddy Warbucks.”

Tony blinked. “There are so many reasons why that's accurate, it's scary. My dad was in weapons production.”

Steve chuckled. “Okay. Tony, I'm happy to help you any way I can.”

“I don't deserve you...”

“Now what?”

“You've got the pieces.”

“Yes.” Steve dug through the plastic bag and pulled them out carefully.

“Great. Then let's finish this. Then we can both get back to our lives.”

Steve smiled. “I like that plan.”

“Wait though. Stay here. It's mostly just assembly work. So if you'd like you can stay here.”

“Sure.” And settled himself on the stiff couch. In between handing Tony things and being his muscles, Steve tipped his head back, resting his eyes. Eventually they stayed shut until the light of sunrise woke him.

“Good morning, Gorgeous.”

“Tony!” Steve rasped, coughed, tried again. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

“No, that would have been entirely too pleasant,” Tony said, sparing a small grin for him.

Steve, of course, blushed. “I meant—”

“Of course you did, Cap. Alright. Now I need you to go out there and tell those morons to turn their giant piece of clunkery off and be on stand-by to turn it back on.”

“Uh. Okay?”

“The two forces would interfere when I turn this one on and likely rip me apart.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Don't really want that. Go on, if you please.”

Steve jumped up and stepped out the door, looking for nurses. He walked down the hall to the desk. “Excuse me. We need assistance in Mr. Stark's room.”

The woman looked up. “Oh what's he done now?”

Steve grinned. “We'd like the electromagnetic machine turned off please.”

“The one keeping him alive?” Her eyes went wide.

“Yeah. But he's finished his machine that will end up doing the same job.”

The nurse grabbed the phone and paged the doctor and another nurse. “That boy is crazy.”

“I know! But he's a genius.”

“No excuse for being a nightmare,” the nurse muttered.

Steve went back to Tony's room. “They're on their way.”

“Great. I'm excited to get out of here. I hate hospitals.”

“Mr. Stark. You wanted to go off the electromagnet already?” the doctor said as she entered, two nurses behind her.

“Yeah. Listen. I've got it all under control. And if I don't, that's why you're here, yeah?”

She sighed and opened her mouth, but Tony beat her to the punch.

“My doo-dad is ready. And I want out. Don't worry. If anything goes wrong, I won't sue. I'll be dead anyway. I already signed your agreement.” Tony waved his finished project around. “But I need you to shut it off. Please.” Tony pushed his lower lip out.

Steve had to look away so he wouldn't laugh.

“Fine, Mr. Stark. I have to say that I think this is a bad idea.”

“Noted.”

“Carris, have the crash cart ready. Mr...”

“Rogers. Steve.”

“I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside.”

“But I—”

“Yes, sir. Please wait outside.”

“Go ahead, Steve. I'll be fine. You can't do anything in here anyway,” Tony said with a wink.

Steve backed out the door, watching. Nerves bubbled uncomfortably through his stomach.

“I'll be fine!” Tony called as an expression of concentration took over.

The doctor closed the door. Steve swore under his breath and paced in front of the blinded windows. He heard the deep hum of the electromagnet shutting off. There were no shouts or screams as Steve held his breath and waited.

Eventually, the doctor opened the door. “Mr. Rogers. You may come back in.”

“Tony! It works?”

“It works!” Tony looked a little pale and sweaty, but he was grinning. “It works.”

“Oh good.”

“For now.”

“What?!”

“No, it'll work just fine, I just need to adjust some of the materials. But we're good for now.”

“We'd like to keep you for observations for at least 24 hours,” the doctor said, scribbling on her charts. “This is extremely experimental, Mr. Stark.”

Tony snorted. “Experimental as in 'out-of-your-league.'”

Steve resumed his claim on the chair next to Tony's bed.

“Rather, Mr. Stark,” the doctor said with a wry grin. “So please stay put and help us ensure you live.” She returned the chart and then left.

Steve sighed heavily. “I'm glad you're okay.”  
“You and me both.” Tony relaxed into his bed and patted Steve's hand. “Why don't you go home. Rest. Hey, go to class tomorrow. I've made you miss enough.”

Shaking his head, he smiled and turned his hand so his and Tony's were palm to palm. “Yeah. I'll have some catch up. Wanna be my figure? Wait, no. Probably shouldn't do that.”

“Yeah. And I should probably not see you outside of class. People like to talk. And—”

“But people know you don't give preferential treatment!”

Tony grinned. “I've also never cared before.”

“Cared? What do you mean?”

“I mean, Steve, that it's...well. I. Care about you.”

He could feel his cheeks bunching from the grin.

“Woah there. Don't blind me with your pearlies.” Tony dropped his gaze, cheeks mildly flushed.

“You... Oh look! You're blushing!”

Tony snatched back his hand. “Shut it, Cap.”

He grinned some more. “Okay. You rest up. I'm going to go sleep. And let me know when you're out. I'll pick you up.”

“Thanks. I'll uh. Text you.”

Steve bent to kiss him after looking around furtively for eyes that weren't watching and lifted his free hand to cup Tony's jaw. “'Kay,” he said when he ran out of air. “I... later!”

“See ya, Steve.”


	7. Chapter 7

 Steve's classes quickly reclaimed his focus, but in two weeks he was caught up again. And by the end of the second week, Tony was giving lectures electronically. Steve was looking forward to seeing him in person, having been so preoccupied that he'd hardly texted Tony at all.

But when class let out on Friday, there was a message for him from Tony.

_Come by my place. Ordered pizza._

He grinned.

“Aw man. That's the Stark grin,” Clint said, suddenly by his side. “You won't be here this weekend. Don't tell me if you two are doing the nasty. I don't want to hear it.”

“Hey, Clint. I certainly have missed your way with words.”

Clint grinned. The annoying leery one. “Not my fault you ain't been around.”

“How did you graduate high school again?”

“Blackmail.”

“Huh. That's the only answer that you've given twice. Must be true.”

“Woah! Woah! I do  _not_ agree to that accusation! You have no proof!”

Steve laughed. “You are crazy paranoid, my friend.”

“Oh, so now we're friends?”

“Shut up, Clint,” he said cheerily.

“You're just in a good mood because you're booty call.”

Steve snorted and opened the door to their dorm. “You're surprisingly talkative about something you said you have no interest in.”

“You're gross, dude. So, I guess I  _won't_ see you at dinner then.”

“Clint. I haven't seen him outside of class for two weeks, you know.”

Clint rolled his eyes and gave him a light punch. “Whatever dude. If he does it for ya, then maybe one day I can overlook the creepiness and the fact that he's a douche.”

“Wow, Clint. Thanks. Say 'hi' to everybody. I'll see you tomorrow. Want to run with me?”

“Yeah, because I want to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn on a day I don't have to.”

He rolled his eyes, stepping off the elevator at his floor. “Bum. See ya.”

“Later, lover boy.”

He made quick time to Tony's. First time since the accident. The door clicked as he approached and a refined British voice said, “Good evening, Master Rogers.”

“Hey, Wooster.”

“Yes, Sir. Wooster.2. Newly upgraded.”

“You sound chipper,” he said, shutting the door behind him.

“Thank you, Sir. Master Stark is downstairs. He awaits your presence.”

Steve kicked off his shoes, grinning. “Hey Tony!” he shouted, heading down the stairs.

“Steeeve!” Tony's voice came from far away.

“Where are you? Wow. It looks loads better down here—Tony! You shouldn't be doing heavy-lifting and stuff!”

“Don't worry, Cap! I feel great!” Tony's dark head appeared over the top of a workbench. And Steve groaned at how filthy the rest of him was when he stood fully. “Relax, mother hen. I've got a sterile covering over it.” The edge  _was_ visible over the neckline of his wife-beater.

“Doesn't make it better!”

“Yeah, it's only a little itchy. Which is to be expected. Healing and all that jazz. I'm almost done with version 2. Oh yeah. The laptop over there?” Tony gestured with the wrench in his hand. “That's for you.”

“What?”

Tony finally stopped moving. “A gift. Steve. As, you know. Thanks?”

“I don't nee—”

“No offence, Steve, but your computer is shit. Easy to hack, slow, and clunky.” He disappeared behind the table again.

“But indestructible!” Steve picked up the new one. “Wow. Light!”

“And also indestructible! Go on. Drop it!”

“Tony! I'm not going to—”

“Like your phone. Testing durability. And a sealed keyboard. So you can spill paint on it and wash it right off!”

“Tony, you can't keep giving me things under the guise of 'testing.' That—”

“I can do whatever I want. I own the company. Take it.”

“I—”

“ _Take it_ .”

“I am! I will! I...” He looked at Tony. “Thanks.”

“Steve, you saved my life. You don't ever have to thank me again.”

He shook his head. “You don't owe me anything. No, it's fine. I'll take the laptop. Jefferson is pretty crummy.”

Tony chortled. “I knew it!”

“What?”

“You  _did_ name it after a president!”

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling his face flame. “You talked to Miss Potts?”

“Yeah, we cleared everything away.”

“Oh.” Steve wandered closer through the evidence of Tony's distracted genius. “Are you...leaving MIT?”

“Not yet. I will. Pepper will be my proxy. I'll make decisions through her, and assume CEO after my term here. So I'll finish the year and then go to New York.”

“New York.”

“Yup. Big Apple herself.”

Steve nodded, still turning the computer over in his hands.

“Yeah. You'll be graduated by then, won't you?”

“If I pass this semester.”

“Shit.”

“No. It's fine.”

Tony was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “You're doing fine in my class.”

“Am I?” Steve brightened. “Good to know.”

“Think you'll need a room-mate when you graduate?”

“In New York?” Steve gaped. Set the computer down before he  _did_ drop it.

“Yeah, you know. I mean, I don't know if you did a lot of thinking about where you were going to live after graduation. But it's an option. If you want. Just. You know. To think about. New York. Lots of art. Opportunities. Lots of art opportunities. And I... Well. Not that you couldn't do it on your own, but I mean, I know people. Stark name. Good for something, and I've got a whole house. I don't know what else to do with all that space.” Tony snapped his mouth shut, blues open wide.

Steve laughed. Couldn't help it. “Wow...”

“What? What!” Tony said defensively, brows dipping into the beginnings of a glare.

“You always babble so much when you're nervous?”

Tony's face turned to muddled confusion.

“You want me to move in with you?”

“Yes.” He looked surprised by his own admission.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” He grinned.

Tony grinned.

His smile growing larger as he slipped his hands into his pockets.

“So. Really.”

“Really,” Steve said with a shrug.

“You'll come live with me?”

“I don't see why not.”

“But your mom...?”

“What about my mom?” Steve frowned.

“Don't you have to...take care of her? Or something?”

“Tony, my mom's been on her own, taking care of me, for years. She'll be fine. I'll go and see her every so often. You can come if you want...”

“Taking me to see the parents already, Cap?” Tony joked, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

He refrained from rolling his eyes. “Yes, I'll move in with you, Tony.”

“Great! Now at least I'll get the proper amount of rest, have a clean house. And good company.”

“Glad to know what I'm worth. How are you? For real.”

“Fine. Really. Itchy. Which is to be expected.”

“You really shouldn't be out of the hospital.”

“No, maybe not. Bit sore where they did the bone grafts. But I've got Dummy doing all of my heavy lifting.”

“Dummy?”

“Here boy!” Tony called.

Steve snorted as a rather stupid-looking robot rolled eagerly towards them, arm extended. “Wow.” And then burst out laughing when it ran into a pillar with a mournful chirp.

“Moron,” Tony muttered flushing. “Stop it. That worthless heap got me into MIT. Not his fault he has a faulty GPS system and an over-developed sense of worth.”

Snagging Tony's writs, Steve tugged him closer. “So I'm really doing okay in your class.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if you do the best after all of that first-hand experience,” Tony grinned, angling his head and looking up through his lashes.

Here came the blush. “I just did the building. Kind of. I'm glad you're okay.”

“Me too, gorgeous. Me too. Now take your computer and meet me for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

“I'll pick you up at 7.”


	8. Chapter 8

 Steve didn't, it turned out, get the highest grade. But he got his 'A,' if just barely. 90.97. He'd take it. Tony took him out for dinner as celebration before winter break. Pizza. And invited Steve's friends to come along.

“You can't buy us, Stark.”

“You're not getting a phone, Barton; you're not special enough,” Tony said archly.

“I hate you. You're still a douche.”

“I can introduce you to a hot poli-sci major.”

Clint paused in his litany of verbal abuse and squinted. “Liar.”

“Is Carol hot?”

“Sorry what?”

“Is Carol hot.”

Clint flicked a glance at Carol, frowning. “Is this a trick question?”

The table laughed over Carol's “For God's sake, Clint!”

“Yes! Yes, okay!”

“And Rogers is a fine specimen?” Tony continued.

Clint's face screwed up.

“I've seen you staring at my ass, Clint,” Steve laughed.

“He's what?!” Tony protested.

“An ass is an ass! I'm an ass guy.” He paled. “Shit, _not_ in _that_ way!”

“Fine,” Tony grit. “But Steve is hot too.”

“You have a thing for blondes,” Clint grumbled.

“So you can admit I have good taste?”

Clint blinked. “Oh. Uh. Yeah? I guess?”

“So if I introduce you to this girl, then she's going to be hot.”

Clint narrowed his eyes.

“Do I know her?” Steve asked.

“She's going to be my new TA for the next semester since Dahlia's leaving. Her name's Natasha. Russian foreign exchange. She's...” Tony trailed off with a measured glance at Clint. “She's probably as limber as you.”

Clint paled and thumped his glass down. “Fuck you.”

“What?” Luke asked, suddenly drawn into the conversation.

Clint shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. “Hell no, Stark. I hate your guts.”

“Wait, what'd we miss?” Carol asked, turning away from Jessica.

“Nothing,” Clint said fiercely.

“Aw, c'mon, Barton—I was only teasing,” Tony said quickly.

“Clint?” Steve said quietly, over Tony's shoulder.

When all eyes were on Clint, his lips spread into a nasty grin and he burst out laughing.

“What the hell, Barton!” Tony cried, bewildered.

“Sucker!” he wheezed.

“Asshole,” Tony growled and punched Clint in the shoulder.

“What was  _that_ all about,” Carol blurted. 

“Dude, yeah,” Luke echoed.

“Tony here seems to have found my sordid past as a circus performer.” Jaws gaped around the table. Clint just looked inordinately pleased. “It was a good summer job!”

“I'm not even going to touch that,” Carol marvelled.

Steve rolled his eyes.

Clint chortled again. “I will admit to being very slightly impressed, Stark. Not even the admissions board knows.”

Preening, Tony gave him a light punch in the arm. “Never question the master.”

“Don't get ahead of yourself, boy scout,” Clint drawled. “So this girl?”

“Introduce you tomorrow!”

Things mostly went smoothly after that, and Tony fell right into place amongst Steve's friends. The evening wrapped up nicely, and Steve took Tony's hand as they left. “So I was thinking.” He guided them down the sidewalk towards Tony's house.

Tony looked up at him.

“Do you...you want to come to my house for Christmas? If you've got business to do and all that, don't worry about it, but I tho—”

“Yes! Absolutely yes.”

“Really?”

“Dude! Yes! When d'you want me? I'll get there whenever. Not like I've anything to do at home—shit. Except for the Stark Christmas Party.”

“You have a  _Christmas party_ named after you?” Steve guffawed.

“Don't laugh, Steve,” Tony said, mock serious. “People are excited to get these invitations. It's like, the highlight of their year!”

He snorted.

“Steve, I was actually serious. Wanna be my date?”

“Oh—uh. Really?”

“It'll be mostly important business people, but I invited a few famous people. Meryl Streep said she'd come. She supports the arts. So does Morgan Freeman.”

Steve gaped at him.

“So is that a yes?”

“Oh my God is that a yes!”

“Sweet!” Tony's lips spread wide. “And bring your jammies so you can stay overnight.”

Steve snickered. “I can't believe you just used the word 'jammies.'”

“Only a man completely secure in himself would have the confidence to use the word 'jammies,'” Tony said boldly, marching up to his front door. “Wanna come in?”

Steve let the blatant lie alone and nodded. “Sure. I'll help you pack.”

“Pack?”

“For my place? Or did you forget already?” he teased, toeing off his shoes.

“Oh. You want me to come tomorrow?” Tony's blues went wide.

“Unless you need to stay here for anything else?” Steve stared at him, waiting. Face breaking into a grin, Tony stepped closer and rocked up on his toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

“You're awesome. Have I told you that?”

“Not lately,” Steve murmured, arms coming up around Tony's back to hold him there, on his toes, against Steve's body. “How 'bout you. Anyone told you you're awesome lately? Because you are.”

“Steve...”

“Inspiration to us all—accident? No big deal, just make myself a mini-machine to plant over my heart and keep me living.”

“Steve...” Tony's cheeks were flushed.

“You are, Tony. You're amazing. Never giving up. That's incredible.”

“Enough about me,” Tony groused, melting a little against Steve's lips. “Are we doing this now?”

“Huh?” He kept kissing Tony lazily, leaning back against the front door.

“Uh. Sex, homegrown.”

Steve flushed immediately, pulling back to see Tony's wry expression.

“Because that's where it's headed if you keep kissing me like that.”

“Oh,” he said with a shuddery breath as he let Tony down to flat feet and loosened his arms. Tony looked disappointed. “You...want to?”

“Steve. That's like asking if opposite poles on a magnet attract one another.” A hasty glance and he added, “That's an obvious 'yes,' Cap.”

“Oh.” He frowned. Blurted, “I'm not ready.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, Tony sighed gustily. “'Kay.”

“Doesn't mean we can't have a furious make-out session on your couch and then fall asleep in your bed.”

Tony brightened considerably and then promptly dragged Steve to said couch.

 

Tony charmed the pants off his mom. Steve rolled his eyes. Hid his snicker when she waxed on about how lucky Steve was to have such a great physics professor. He whisked Tony away to his room when she started in on how terrible Tony's loss must be.

“Wow,” Tony said, staring at Steve's closed door in a kind of daze.

“Yeah, sorry—”

“Your mom's  _great_ .”

Steve blinked. “Oh. Thanks.” And then Tony's attention was on exploring Steve's room, jabbering over anything Steve had to say, defense or explanation.

“So,” he said finally. “Where am I sleeping?”

“You can have my bed.”

Tony squinted at it. “Then where are  _you_ sleeping?”

“The couch.”

“What?”

“It's fine.” He smiled.

“Steve, you won't even fit on that thing. That's not gonna work.”

“It'll be fine. I've done it before.”

“What. When you were two feet shorter?”

He flushed.

“Steve. Take your bed. I'll figure something out.” He frowned then brightened considerably. “How d'you feel about bunkbeds?”

He laughed.

“No seriously. I'll have 'em ready by dinner!” Then Tony dragged him to the hardware store and managed to do just that.

Steve's mom hovered in the doorway with a small smile before fetching them two sodas.

“Thanks, Mrs. Rogers,” Tony said around a screwdriver.

“Oh please. Sarah is fine.” She smiled warmly, not that Tony noticed.

She called them for dinner—homemade brisket with mashed potatoes, and carmelised carrots. Tony made obscene noises that Steve knew from a different context. Thankfully his mom didn't ask why Steve's face was flamed red the entire time.

“Mrs—Sarah,” Tony groaned as he forced the last bite of seconds in. “This is the best food I've ever eaten.”

Her face flushed with pride and pleasure. “Thank you, Tony. I'm sure you've eaten—”

“ _Ever_ .”

She grinned. It looked like Steve's. “You know what the special ingredient is?” She asked with a twinkle in her eye as she rose and started clearing the table.

“What?” Tony asked, a little rapt.

“Love!” She smiled and then turned to put the dishes in the sink.

Tony's expression went strangled, twitching as if unsure what to portray. Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat, rising to help clean. He lightly touched Tony's shoulder as he went by and flashed him a smile. Tony's was weak in response.

“Shoot...” his mom mumbled. “Steve, honey. Would you run by the market for me? Pick up a bag of apples. Granny Smiths. I was going to make a pie.”

“ _Make_ one?” Tony asked, twisting in his chair. “Want me to come?”

“Tony, would you mind helping me start the crust?” His mom said before words could come out of Steve's mouth. His stomach gave a twist.

“Uh...” Tony looked to Steve, eyes widening in panic. “Sure?”

Steve smiled weakly and grabbed his wallet on his way out the door. By the time he got back with the apples, Tony and his mom were chatting away, measuring and sorting, Tony promising he could make her Cuisinart  _better_ , fix her electric beater, and even make sure the TV didn't do that thing where it buzzed when you turned the volume up past 18.

“Hey,” he said, setting the apples on the table.

“There's my boy. Excellent. Good apples, Stevie. Alright, now you and Tony need to peel them— _no inventing, Tony—_ core them, and then slice them nice and thin, okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve muttered. Glancing at Tony, she shared a grin and they got down to work. He sat mostly quiet, watching Tony happily peel, core, and slice apples. He smiled freely. Bantered and chatted with his mom. It warmed Steve to see them get along like a house on fire. They finished rather quickly, Tony stealing out of the kitchen to 'go to the bathroom.' Steve saw him hide the kitchen tools behind his back.

“He's a nice boy, Stevie.” He blinked at his mom. She tilted her head the other way and smiled. “I see the way you watch him.”

“Yeah...”

“I think he loves you too.”

“Mom!”

She laughed and gave him a floury hug. “He's going to take care of you.”

“Uh... I think chances are more likely that I'll be taking care of him.”

“It's always like that.” She held him a minute. “He asked me if it was okay if you moved to New York with him.”

“What?” Steve tried to pull back but his mom held tight. “He  _did_ ?”

Her chuckle was warm near his ear. “Yeah. And you go right ahead, baby. I think he'll stick by you forever.”

“Mom...” His face was hot. Again.

“Now. Go find out what he's doing to my apple peeler.” She pulled back. “And no  _business_ of  _any_ kind in my house.”

“ _Mom._ ”

“And the pie will be ready in about an hour and a half.”

“Sure.” Steve smiled. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologise for him. He's just trying to help.”

Steve shook his head and then went up to his room. “So what are you going to do to it?”

Tony jumped guiltily, dropping the screwdriver in the process. “To what?”

“The apple peeler, Tony. I'm not an idiot.”

“Ugh,  _Steve_ ! The base is faulty—kept wobbling, and these screws are stripped, and if the angle was adjusted here—”

“Alright, alright. I don't need to know.” Steve flopped on his bed. “Mom said the pie would be done in an hour and a half.” He watched Tony's back at his desk. “Tony?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I heard.”

He sat. “You okay?”

“Hey, Steve. Your mom is awesome.”

“Oh. Um. Thanks.”

Tony turned, his eyes trained on the floor. “No really. She's like... really super awesome.”

Steve hooked a foot on the roll-y chair and pulled Tony close. “She is.”

“I mean...” His hands waved around with nothing to work on. “She made you!”

Laughing, he took Tony's hands. “Yeah. She did.”

“Shit. That's not... I mean... I don't know what I mean.” He looked up at Steve, a little lost.

“You asked for her blessing to move to New York with you?”

Tony quickly looked away.

“And she gave it?”

“Yeah,” he answered after a minute.

“That's pretty awesome of her.”

“Yeah.”

“She thinks you love me.”

Tony gaped at him.

“And,” Steve continued, feeling his cheeks flame up again, “I may not know that, but I do know that I pretty much love you.”

Tony's jaw hung loose.

He waited.

“Steve...”

“Yeah, Tony.”

“I don't deserve you,” he choked out. “I...you too.”

“I'll take it,” he grinned.

“No, wait. I'll...” Tony took a deep breath, steadying himself, hands gripping tighter on Steve's. “I love you too. There.”

“You do?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. I wouldn't just...say it. For the hell of it.”

Steve grinned and gave Tony a sharp tug that pulled him into Steve's lap. “I think New York will be fun.”

“Of course it'll be fun! City never sleeps!” Tony chuckled.

“Great. You'll get along great then,” Steve pretended to grumble while he wrapped his arms around Tony.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we will.” Tony stretched up and gave Steve a kiss.

He smiled and they chatted until the pie was ready.


	9. Chapter 9

 “Shit! Steve, did you do that thing!”

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes. Tony. I sharpened the knives.”

“When's your mom s'posed to be here again?!”

“Tony, she said she'd arrive around 3. Relax,” he said patiently, putting the vacuum back in the closet.

“But it's her first time here, and I don't want her to think I'm making you live in a pig-sty—I want everything to look nice for her, and _oh fuck the guest room_!”

“ _Tony_ . We did the guest room  _together_ .  _Yesterday_ .” He walked across the room to grab his lover on the way up the stairs to check the guest room. “It's. Fine.”

“But the flowers!”

“We didn't put the flowers out because they'd have wilted by the time she got here.”

“Right.”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony let out the air he was holding in and then sucked in more air.

“Let it out.”

He exhaled.

“Relax. It's just my mom. And if things are a mess, she'd be fine with it because we're two guys, and she knows I'm messy.”

“You're  _not_ messy,” Tony wailed. “You're just saying that because  _I'm_ messy, and I'll make her hate me, and—”

“Jesus. Is  _that_ what this is about?  _Tony_ .” Steve rolled his eyes and gathered Tony close to his chest.

“I just...”

Steve could feel Tony's hands fluttering at his sides. Nervous habit.

“I just want her to...to be impressed.”

“Oh she'll be plenty impressed. Trust me.”

“Yeah, but she...”

“Tony, you've already impressed my mom. You don't need to win her over again. She's not going to change her mind. She's a good judge of character,” Steve soothed, rubbing his hands over Tony's back, checking his watch over Tony's shoulder. “Why don't you go shower. It's almost noon, and that'll take time. Maybe we can make some lunch, get dinner started, and before we know it, she'll be here.”

Tony nodded against Steve's chest and then took a deep breath. “Join me for shower sex?”

Snorting, Steve smacked Tony's ass. “You're ridiculous. I showered earlier.”

Tony pulled back, grabbing Steve's wrists and grinning madly. “I'll do that thing you like. And it'll relax me.”

“You wheeler-dealer,” he laughed.

“C'mon!” Tony tugged him towards the stairs. “Let's go.”

Steve laughed and allowed himself be pulled up the stairs to the shower.

 

By the time Sarah got there, Tony was relaxed and in control again. She cooed over the house, certifiably impressed. “It's so  _big_ !”

“That's what she said,” Tony mouthed over his shoulder to Steve.

Steve retaliated by pinching Tony's ass and then smiling sweetly when his mom turned to him. After the tour, lead charmingly by Tony, they sat for drinks and then Tony served dinner (not quite as good as Sarah's—he was still learning, but still quite good). They talked for a while after dinner before showing Sarah to the guest room and settling into bed (at the opposite end of the house) themselves.

“See,” Steve yawned. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” Tony said sleepily. “Just me. Worrying. 'Cause. You know. It's what I do.”

“Actually, it's  _not_ what you do.”

“What?” Tony blinked at him.

Steve smiled. “Tony. You were waiting all night for her to say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say how proud she is.” If it were a little lighter, Steve would be able to tell for sure if Tony was blushing.

“I was not.”

“ _Tony_ . When she finally said it, you practically melted into the sofa you got so relaxed.”

“Shut up, Steve.” He pouted.

Steve kissed him. He was conditioned to the pout. “She's proud of us. She really is. She meant it.”

“I know,” Tony sighed. “I just... I didn't want to disappoint her.”

“She knows you're taking good care of me. Just like, hey, look at me. Just like she knows that I'm taking good care of you.”

“Huh?”

He chuckled in the dark. “I'm not the only one she worries about anymore. She loves you too.”

“What?”

“She likes to know that you're being taken care of too.”

“Oh.”

Steve let his arm drape limply around Tony's waist, waiting for him to continue.

“I love your mom.”

“Yeah. I know.” Steve grinned. “She loves you too. How did you miss what she said when she got here.”

“Remind me?”

“She said, 'there's my favourite boys!' You got a hug and a kiss on the cheek too.”

“I did, didn't I,” Tony said a little dreamily. “Imagine how happy she'll be when I ask you to marry me.”

“ _You're asking me to marry you_ ?!”

“SHIT.”

“ _TONY_ .”

“No I ruined it all!” Tony wailed.

Steve laughed and gave Tony a shove. “You idiot.”

“Stephen Rogers, will you marry me?” Tony's voice was low and serious.

He opened his mouth but the sound wouldn't come out, emotion locking up his voice.

“Steve?” Tony said quietly before repeating his name with a little panic.

Steve surged forward and sealed his mouth to Tony's, pulling him in tight.

“O-oh...” Tony said, dazed, when they separated.

“Yes,” Steve said breathlessly when he found he could. “Yes, yes, yes, yes yesyesyes!”

Laughing with relief, Tony sagged into him. “Oh. Good. Had me worried for a minute.”

“I couldn't speak,” Steve admitted.

“I have a ring. Can I get it in the morning?”

“Propose again in front of my mom. She'll be ecstatic.”

Tony laughed, rolling on top of him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Steve sighed, heartbeat slowing gently as he held Tony and drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So, [Migraine-Sky](http://migraine-sky.tumblr.com/) is awesome and arted for me!!!!  
> [ Here](http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbzm2mUdGe1qeha4so1_1280.jpg)


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